He is a keeper, after all
by longtimefan-firsttimewriter
Summary: HGOW Seven years after the defeat of Voldemort, Hermione and Oliver find themselves at a crossroads. Thier paths cross again, and what happens may change them both forever. Please RR Rated for later chapters. ALSO, OWHG dont meet until the 4th CH
1. Chapter 1

The vibrant blue sky was edged with dark looming clouds that just screamed rain. The strong breeze that preceded the storm to come that evening didn't deter the snowy white owl that coursed the wind currents like a glider. She had been given her destination, although the location was one she knew well. The scene below her was familiar, as she flapped her wings to slow her descent to the open second-story window, located on the front of Flourish & Blotts.

The smallish amount of light provided by the warm sunshine and sounds from the street below streamed in through Hermione's open window. Head bent over her desk, she used special glasses to examine the precious parchment laid out there. Slowly moving her lips as she read, her eyes widened and she allowed her lips to curve into a smile. 'This is most definitely a forgery,' She thought to herself. 'The syntax is all wrong; the letter structure isn't even acceptable, looking to imitate 15th century Hungarian Palaeography!' (A/N: An actual alphabet. I looked it up! lol)

Hermione settled back in her chair and closing her eyes, reached behind her and rubbed as she stretched her neck. A shadow followed by a soft breeze lifting her bangs back from her face caused her to open her eyes.

"Hello, Hedwig."

Thesnowy white owl blinked back at her as Hermione leaned forward to take the small rolled up parchment from her leg. Hermione stroked Hedwig's soft feathers and reached into the small dish in her desk drawer to give her an owl treat. Hedwig affectionately nipped her fingers as she accepted the offering. Hermione opened the letter and gave a sigh.

_Mione,_

_Please come over for dinner tonight at 7. We haven't seen you in ages. Send your reply with Hedwig. _

_Love, Ginny_

Hermione sighed again. She took her quill and signed that yes she would be there promptly at seven. Hedwig blinked as Hermione attached the return parchment to her leg and gave her a few more strokes.

"Thank you, Hedwig. You are an amazing owl."

Hedwig nibbled on her fingers again before she flew over Hermione's head and out the window.

Hermione huffed her breath, causing her bangs to float up and shook her head. Dinner with Harry and Ginny. That was a novelty nowadays, as she thought back on the past 6 years. The constant companionship of her friends had ended as soon as they had defeated Voldemort. This surprised everyone but the trio. They had discussed that they would need time to get back to the 'real world', as Harry called it. He had gone off to find Remus Lupin, their DADA teacher from 3rd year. Ron returned to the Burrow, looking forward to sleeping in, and of course, eating. Mrs. Weasley would be certain to make all kinds of favorites for the houseful of children who had returned from the war.

Unfortunately, not all of them had. Charlie had been killed when he was organizing an attack utilizing the dragons during the battle at Hogwarts. That was a brutal and horrible day, that was, she thought to herself. The school was no longer the same place as it was when the three had walked through the large wood doors to the Great Hall to be sorted. Repairs had been made but the scars could still be seen. 'We certainly seem to be able to hide them better than the buildings,' she smirked. It was a senseless death in a senseless war, started for the senseless reason of power. Power to control others and subject everyone to another's will. 'But in what world did death and destruction EVER make sense', she fumed. Her eyes filled as she felt the pain and sorrow of those days threaten to overwhelm her. She blinked back her tears and stifled the need for a good, old-fashioned cry. This is why she didn't like hanging out with her best friends all the time. It just brought all the painful and damaged history out. And once she started down that path, it would just bring fresher, more painful history to mind.

WhenHermione had returned from the final battle, she wanted to go home, plain and simple. To hear her mother's voice surround her and smell her father's aftershave as he picked her up to hug her, like he still would do, even after she had gotten almost too big to do so anymore. When she got there, they did those exact things and she felt comforted, for a time. After almost 3 weeks of waking up with cold sweats and rapid heartbeats, she realized she needed a focus again. They had all three received their degrees from Hogwarts, as they had kept up a correspondence course of sorts while they were searching for horcruxes and battling Death Eaters left and right. It was more honorary than anything really. The amount of magic and experience they gained from that year was equivalent to a crash course in Auror training. She had applied to many wizarding schools of extended study before her 6th year of school and most had sent acceptance letters. She decided to attend several of them over a period of years and gain as much knowledge as she could about ancient languages. Latin was a base at Hogwarts for many spells and enchantments, but other countries had their own incantations that were just as powerful, and to Hermione, fascinating. But she needed to study the language forms and structures to understand them.

Her travels took her many different places and she met so many interesting people. It was an eye-opening experience for her, in that she was welcomed to share in their knowledge. Most wizarding communities were secluded and kept secret, just to preserve their identities and knowledge. That had changed during the war somewhat, but no more so than after the final battle. The idea of all they knew and held dear being ripped away from them by force tended to make people hold on tighter, but after the war, doors opened and ancient texts were available to some. Especially to one of the trio.Hermione was warmly received and encouraged to participate in many discussions, lectures, and meetings to relate her opinions and views of things. She was flattered by the complete acceptance she had experienced. She knew it had to do with her membership in the trio, but she hadn't minded accepting this gratuity. It allowed her to expand her knowledge, which was always a plus. It also gave her the opportunity to teach that just knowing a lot wasn't enough sometimes.Hermione made sure to include Harry's bravery and skill and Ron's strategic mind and loyal heart to each and every person who would ask her about those times. In academia, these traits were sometimes overlooked. She wanted people to know that without them, all would have been lost. 'Books and cleverness indeed,' she snorted.

A cool breeze was coming through her open window and the warm sunshine had disappeared behind the grey clouds that were spreading like wildfire across the sky. Hermione looked at her watch and gasped. She had been thinking on things for two hours. It was now five thirty. She reached up and closed the window. Her eyes feel on the text lying on her desk once again. "I can discuss this with Evan tomorrow," she muttered. Her cloak already around her shoulders, she tidied up her other things and making sure she had her wand with her, grabbed her trashbin and walked out of her office. Turning to lock it tight,Hermione placed the bin down at the doorjamb. After she placed the requisite enchantments on her office, she hurried down to the first floor. Others were finishing their end-of-day routines and getting ready to leave as well. She waved at Evan Dearborn, the manager of Flourish & Blotts, and headed out into the now blustery Diagon Alley.

As Hermione focused her mind on Harry and Ginny's front yard, she turned and felt the familiar sensation of squeezing through a too small opening for a moment. Her eyes opened to the warm sunshine beating down once again and the clouds on the distant horizon. "Storm is still a ways-"

"Auntie Mione!" a small voice shouted before a littlegirl with freckled arms and vibrant auburn curls launched themselves at her waist, as if their life depended on it.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I have finally figured out I have to do this before I submit. Learning as I go. Sorry folks. I hope you enjoy this story as I am just kind of cranking it out as I go. I have the idea of what I want, but it is just putting it in a story line that I think someone would find interesting. Hope you will read and review.

A/N: I also own nothing. Just stating it up front, er, second chapter...eh whatever. You get the idea. If you recognize it, it doesnt not belong to me. All Hail JKR! Thanx for reading.

"_Auntie Mione!" a small voice shouted before a little person with freckled arms and vibrant auburn curls launched themselves at her waist, as if their life depended on it._

"Hey Chels!" gushed Hermione. "How is my favorite little god-daughter today?"

"I'm okay, but you wouldn't believe the neat stuff I found in the attic the other day," she exclaimed. "But don't tell Mummy," Chelsea whispered, "She always gets mad when I go snooping." A small giggle escaped her lips.

"Oh, okay, your secret is safe with me," whispered Hermione conspiratorially. Chelsea beamed.

Hermione still couldn't get over this amazing little girl. Although she was only five years old, Chelsea Lily Potter was a bit of an enigma. She had the unstoppable energy of the average five year old, the constant babbling about nothing, and the ability to wrap most adults around her little finger. Her appearance was as most young children as well. Dirt streaks on her hands and little scratches here and there on her legs were marks of her Weasley heritage. They were a rough and tumble group and it showed. Once, Hermione recalled, Chelsea had been climbing the huge tree in the back yard of the Burrow, when she missed a limb and lost her grip. It was a scary moment to hear her scream pierce the air as she fell. Everyone rushed over to check on her and she lay there, as if unconscious. Ginny was beside herself and Chelsea popped up and said, "Oi! That was fun! I wanna do that again!" Everyone clustered around and hugged her and told her to never climb the tree again. She nodded her head and went to play with her cousins. Not two days later, Hermione caught her at almost the very top of the tree. She made sure that no one knew and coaxed Chelsea back down again. They made a pact right there that if she promised not to climb trees anymore, Hermione would buy her an archeology book. Shameless bribery really, but it worked. Now, Chelsea was fixated on finding things hidden in the dark corners of her house. Hermione looked down at Chelsea again. Her dark auburn hair hung down to her shoulder blades in soft curls and was just as untamable as her father's used to be at Hogwarts. Her bright emerald green eyes were bright and infinitely curious. And, she adored books and learning. Go figure.

Hermione heard a whoop and the rest of the house came out the door at her. Harry raced over and scooped up Chelsea with a great flourish and kissed her noisily on her stomach. He reached around the squirming, giggling little bundle and gave Hermione a kiss on the cheek.

"Hey there, Mione. Is this little imp bothering you?" Harry growled as he tickled Chelsea.

"Oh absolutely! You should put a leash on that girl. Honestly, she runs around just HUGGING people, Harry!" Hermione said in a stern voice. Harry looked up and saw the twinkle in her eyes.

"Well, then I guess it is off to the pet store with you, little lady!" He said sternly.

"Daddy! Stop! I can't breathe!" Chelsea giggled.

"What is this I hear about a pet store?" Ginny came up and hugged Hermione. Ginny Weasley Potter was 5 months pregnant and glowed as if there were no sunshine anywhere else the world. It all radiated from her face.

"We are not getting that Crumpled Horn Snorkack! I will not allow it, Harry James Potter!"

Everyone dissolved in laughter.

"Hey, is this a party or what?" a deep voice boomed from behind Hermione.

"Hey Ron!" Harry boomed back.

"Uncle Ron!" Chelsea squirmed from her fathers grasp to run into Ron's arms.

"Hey little imp! How are you?" Ron asked, picking her up and slinging her over his shoulder.

Hermione and Ginny just rolled their eyes. Ginny jerked her head towards the house as they all made their ways inside. Ron placed Chelsea down on her feet and she was off like a bullet, into the living room.

"Hey Hermione. How is the smartest witch in this generation?" Ron asked as he pulled her into a hug. The three sat around the kitchen table as Ginny went to the sink to finish dinner.

"Ron, you know how I hate it when you mention that. I wish Remus had never said that. It has proved most difficult to live down." Hermione stated.

"Eh, we all knew it long before then Mione. So, how are things?" Ron queried.

"Things are fine. Work is going well. Same ole, same ole," She replied quietly, picking at the tablecloth.

Everyone but Hermione locked eyes and raised eyebrows. Ginny again jerked her head, this time towards the dish cabinet for the guys set the table in the dining room. Both men rose from the table and began removing dishes as Hermione looked up at Ginny with a look of understanding. The two moved to the dining room, discussing the newest addition to the Puddlemere United team, Marcus Flint, and how it would affect the team dynamics.

Ginny sat down at the kitchen table and smoothed her hands over her small but prominent belly.

"So, you wanna talk about it?" she asked.

"Not particularly, but you won't let that happen, so maybe later, after the game is on?" Hermione asked.

"Sounds good. We can listen to the storm rage from the sun room." Ginny winked. She distinctly remembered Hermione's affinity for storms.

"Okay, so, what can I do to help?" Hermione brightened.

Once dinner was finished and the dishes put away, the guys settled down in the living room to watch the Quidditch match that was on that night. Chelsea snuggled in between her dad and her uncle, looking like she was in heaven. Hermione watched her from the doorway and sighed. It was with a pang that she turned to follow Ginny's lead to the sun room. The storm had begun during dinner and was raging fully by now. They both settled in their seats and watched lightening flash across the sky and felt the rumble of thunder through their chairs, while they sipped their tea.

Muffled shouts could be heard through the house as the game progressed inside. Hermione and Ginny both laughed slightly and smiled.

Hermione was fidgeting with her cup and saucer while Ginny observed her over the rim of her own cup. Hermione hasn't changed that much since school, she thought to herself.

Her long coltish legs were clad in taupe slacks and curled under her, while a chocolate brown cashmere sweater encased her small shoulders and her average bosom. The wild mane of brown hair that terrorized her throughout their school years had calmed down some, but was still a bit unruly some days. Today, with the high humidity, it had curled in on itself almost completely. The spirals fell down to her lower back and the clasp she used to hold it all back while she worked was coming loose. The soft tendrils next to her cheeks were lighter than the rest. Her brown eyes were focused on the horizon and then as if she could feel Ginny's eyes on her, swung over to look surprised at her best friend.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"Nothing, just noticing how you haven't changed much since your 6th year," Ginny replied.

Hermione snorted.

"Really. You have the same figure, the same look of brilliance in your eyes, the same..."

"Thanks, really. No need to go any further," Hermione blushed.

"What? I can't compliment my best friend on how she hasn't changed in seven years time? Except that you have this depth to your eyes that wasn't there before." Ginny remarked.

Hermione looked surprised.

"I don't know what you are going on about. I think I have changed a lot, except where it is important."

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked.

"Just what I said. The things that are the same in me are things that I don't ever want to change. My thirst for knowledge, the things that fulfill me are the same. I will be an old lady and still want to know it all." She laughed.

"But as far as my looks go, it is just window dressing. It doesn't show anything but what people want to see. I know what has changed and what hasn't. Most people won't see what has truly changed me, and for that I am thankful." Hermione stated.

"Like what?"

"What we went through in the war. What our lives could have been like. Those are the things that I am thankful no one will ever know. And," She stopped and took a long sip of her tea.

"And?"

"And would you look at the time. I have to go." Hermione said with finality.

"Mione?"

"Yes?"

"You can try to make out like things are all fine and dandy, but sooner or later; it will catch up with you." Ginny said.

"Well, when it does, I will hopefully be ready."

Later on, as Harry was putting a sleeping Chelsea to bed, Ginny watched from doorway.

Harry tucked her blanket around her and brushed her hair back from her forehead to lay a gentle kiss there. It still amazed Ginny that given everything that Harry had been through as a child and young adult; he was still able to love so sweetly, so gently.

"Good night, sweetheart."

"Night, Daddy." Chelsea mumbled.

As they walked to their own bedroom, Harry wrapped an arm around Ginny's waist and rubbed her back.

"Oh, that feels so good." She said quietly.

"You had a hard day, Gin," he said. "You shouldn't work so hard, put your feet up every once in a while."

"I do dear. But it isn't always easy with a rambunctious five year old flitting around." She chuckled. They pulled pillows from the head of the bed to fold down the comforter together.

"I know. Gosh, where does she get it from?" he asked.

Ginny quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, I know. Weasley genes." He laughed. "So, how did the talk go?"

"Okay, I guess. She is in denial about something, but won't let on what."

"Well, she will tell when she is ready I guess. Hermione never did like being pushed on anything. Usually it was the other way around." Harry said.

"Right. But I am worried that whatever it is, it will keep her locked in that office for the rest of her life, and won't let her live fully." Ginny countered as she removed her clothes from the day and slipped on her nightgown.

Harry flopped down on the bed and began removing his shoes.

"Is it really that serious?" He asked, turning to see Ginny pull her nightgown up over her full belly.

"It could be, Harry." She replied as she rubbed lotion all over her stomach.

"Remind again why you do that?" He asked.

"To keep from getting stretch marks, my dear."

"Oh," he said, turning back around. "I thought it was just to drive me insane with lust," he muttered.

"Hun, I don't have to do anything to do that. The proof is sitting right here in my stomach."

Earlier, as the Potters and guests had sat down to dinner, Oliver Wood had just come out of the locker room at Puddlemere United's practice pitch. His teammates would be meeting at a local restaurant and he was running late. 'A captain's job is never done' he thought to himself. Oliver hadn't changed much since his last year at Hogwarts. He was still dashing, in a romance novel sort of way. Since reaching adulthood, he had grown to a tall 6'3", and his shoulders were slightly wider than before. He was in good shape for a 29 year old man, but Quidditch was responsible for most of that. It certainly wasn't his diet. He could eat a horse and still be hungry.

His face still had that sweet boyish quality, but it was also a very masculine face, with strong features. His eyes were still brown, warm chocolate brown to be exact, but they were also mischievous in character. They also conveyed intelligence, once someone looked past the package to see it. Most people, women especially, were inclined to remark on his physique, his smile, or his Scottish accent. It was overwhelming as a younger man, but he was more mature now, more knowing. As long as Oliver treated everyone as a fan, and not as potential best buddies or girlfriends, he coped remarkably well. All were things he took in stride, and sometimes, he was allowed to show his smarts. Usually it was to men, who took it as an insult that such a man existed. Smart, good looking, popular, rich, and modest. Men didn't respond to the competition well. Well, most men. His teammates had similar outlooks and demeanors and so he was content within this small circle of friends.

As he strolled into the restaurant, he could already hear his teammates table from the door. The hostess smiled brightly and led Oliver to their table. The team was giving the waitress a hard time and Oliver had come up just as her face was about to explode into flames of embarrassment.

"Alright folks, show's over. Let the lady do her job," Oliver barked.

"Ol, don't ruin the fun, man!" Jon O'Shaunessy cried.

"Only one I see having fun is you blokes," Oliver replied while taking his seat.

The waitress moved over to him and he placed his order. She blushed and said, "Right away sir."

The team just looked at Oliver. He was moving his silverware around and situating his water glass when he caught them staring.

"What?"

"Right away sir" Chaser Ted Hereford mimicked in a high voice. "You are such a dolt, Oliver. Don't even recognize when a prime bird like that is hitting on you."

The team chuckled.

"For your information, Ted, I don't look at every female in my line of sight as a future conquest." Oliver replied calmly. "Mostly, I see them as people who deserve to be treated with respect and dignity."

The entire team was quiet for a moment, and then loud boisterous laughter burst forth and enveloped the surrounding tables.

"Yeah, okay, Ollie, whateva," muttered Simone Dubois, the Seeker for the team.

"You all are children," Oliver remarked as he drank his water.

"Oliver? Oliver Wood? Of course, it is you!" a tall man with large eyes and graying hair came up to the table.

"Evan! How are you, good man?" Oliver rose out of his seat to shake his friend's hand.

"Fine, fine. And yourself?"

"Couldn't be better. Let me introduce my teammates." Oliver introduced all the folks on the team and invited Evan to sit down.

"Oh, no. Thank you though, I have to be running along. The store will be opening in exactly," Evan looked at his pocket watch as he stated, "12 hours and I have much to do before tomorrow."

"Oh, okay. Erm, speaking of the store, I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time tomorrow. I have a new acquisition that I need to be verified and I was hoping you could help." Oliver questioned.

"Well, I don't do that part of the business anymore, I am sorry. But we have a brilliant researcher there who I am sure would be more than willing to look it over. She is quite accomplished and a veritable genius with old texts. Quite the dedicated worker she is, almost reminds me of myself in my younger years. At least in passion!" Evan blushed a little.

Oliver watched his eyes glaze over a bit when he spoke of the researcher. 'Hmm, must be a right hot little spinster to catch his eye!' Oliver thought.

"Yes, well, hmm hmm, I must be going, but I will be certain to let her know you will be by tomorrow, say around 11?" Evan was shaking Oliver's hand.

"Sounds great, Evan. See you then."

I would like to thank anyone who has read the story and reviewed. I am quite excited for the next few chapters as it will display a bit of fun and flirting.

Ta Ta


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Nope, not mine. I didnt do it, but man, can you imagine the drama if I did? LOL

Check for a more complete A/N in Ch 4.

At precisely 7:30 am, Hermione arrived outside Flourish and Blotts with a slight pop. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun that was slightly off to the side when she opened her eyes. Apparating still made her slightly queasy if she kept her eyes open. Her cloak, along with her simple black robe, flapped in the early morning breeze, showing her trim shape encased in smooth black slacks, and the bottom hem of her favorite sweater. It had been a bit chilly earlier when she left and she wanted to be sure to keep warm.Summer wason its way but the cooler spring weather was just normal London fare. Her knapsack slid off her shoulder as she made her way inside the quiet store. Hermione walked to the back of the store, pastthe aisles and aisles of books to Evan's office. She wanted to be sure to make a point to speak to him about the forged book from yesterday and early morning before the shop was filled with customers was the best time.

She knocked lightly on his office door. A muffled 'Come in' was heard and Hermione opened the door. Despite being the manager of a very busy magical bookstore, Evan's office was practically immaculate. Papers lined neatly on his desk highlighted orders coming in, orders received, and employee schedules. Evan walked out from the closet at the side of the office away from the wall of windows on the east side of the building.

"Good morning, sir." Hermione said smiling slightly.

"Now, Hermione, how many times have I asked you to call me Evan," he chuckled. "And good morning to you too."

"Several times, s-, I mean, Evan." Hermione blushed.

"Fine, fine. So, how are you this morning?" Evan asked.

"Good. I would like to ask you for a moment of your time later this morning. I have discovered some discrepancies concerning Mr. Idlewilde's transcript from Hungary and I would like to follow up with you before I make a final declaration of its authenticity, sir, er, I mean, Evan." Hermione said.

"Yes, that would be fine. I don't mind looking it over, but I am confident that your final determination will be sound. I wouldn't have hired you to research and authenticate rare medieval tomes if I didn't trust your ability, my dear." Evan replied.

"Yes, uh, Evan."

"Okay, then. Is that all?" Evan inquired.

"Yes." She replied.

"Good, well then, we will see you later this morning. Around 11?" he asked.

"Yes that is fine, thank you sir." Hermione said.

Evan's eyebrows rose.

"Er, I mean Evan." She said before she turned. He smiled as she left.

Hermione walked up the stairs to her office door, picked up her now empty trashbin, and removed the enchantments on her door. She walked into the darkness, seeing as it was still early and the sun hadn't made its way over the buildings yet. She removed her cloak and put it on the hook behind her door. She spoke the word "Lumos" and several lamps around her office lit up the darkness. All was as she left it the night before, as it should be. She took her trashbin and placed it next to her desk while laying her backpack on top. She stifled a yawn as she conjured up a pot of tea and scones to start her day and began working though the pile of things on her desk, trying to imitate her boss, Evan. 'Neatness and order are necessary evils,' she thought to herself. Despite Hermione's near obsession with schedules and planners throughout school, she was a bit of a disaster nowadays. Once she became engrossed in a project, all her neat and tidy attitudes flew out the proverbial window. For the last 3 days, she had been poring over Mr. Idlewilde's text and had neglected the rest of her work.

Once she had earmarked the pages that she wished to speak with Evan about, she moved the heavy text and her notes to another side table next to her door and began tidying up. With a swish of her wand, she designated the locations for her scraps of parchment and sorted her notes in alphabetical order in her filing cabinet. That done, she looked down the list of items that the other staff members had received requests for that dealt with ancient language texts and began to work in the stacks and stacks of books located in the back of her office. She could spend weeks poring over these books, she hummed. It warmed her to the core to see all that wonderful knowledge there, just at the fingertips. She set to work.

At this same time, a young man was just stirring from his slumber in his home several miles north of London. Oliver opened his left eye and focused on the clock on his bed stand. 8:59 AM? 'Oh, lord,' he thought to himself, 'way too early to be up,' as he yawned and stretched. His toes caught on the sheet and tugged it down to reveal his toned chest, almost washboard stomach,and plain blue pajama bottoms. He rolled over and set his feet on the floor and winced. 'Sheesh, that is cold,' his feet exclaimed to his brain. He quick like grabbed a pair of socks off the top of the laundry basket sitting next to his dresser and slid them on his feet. Putting his feet back on the floor, -that was much better-, he walked across the hall to his bathroom to start his day. Stripping down to nothing, he started the shower and grabbed a towel out of the closet and hung it on the rack next to the shower. He stepped in and began to finally feel awake. But, of course, an ice cold shower will do that to a guy. He had always found that a brisk short shower in the mornings usually shocked any sleep out of his system, no matter what time he woke up. He finished washing quickly and turning off the shower, he slid the shower curtain to the side, and was about to grab the towel from the rack outside, only to scream like a banshee at the sight waiting for him.

"Hey Ollie, how's tricks?" Fred and George smirked.

"Holy Mary, mother of-OUT!" Oliver bellowed, his Scottish accent in full form.

"Sheesh, guy can't even take a joke anymore!" Fred remarked as they walked to the living room after the bathroom door slammed behind them.

"Well, we did just see him naked," George replied.

"Yeah, but how is that different than the locker room at Hogwarts?" Fred asked.

"Cuz maybe back then, he knew we were there," George said, with a slight eyebrow raise.

"Spose," said Fred. "How 'bout we make it up to him and start breakfast?"

"Sounds good, o brilliant twin of mine," George said taking a seat at the breakfast bar.

Fifteen minutes later, Oliver walked into the kitchen with the aroma of burnt toast in the air.

"Don't think that trying to cook me breakfast will make up for that little stint, guys. You scared 3 years off of my Quidditch career." Oliver remarked, accepting a cup of very strong coffee from George.

"Oh YEAH! That'll put hair on your chest." He joked.

"And anywhere else it is lacking," Fred replied with a straight face from the kitchen table.

"So, Ollie, old boy. What are you up to these days?" George asked, taking his seat at the breakfast bar.

"Same thing as last Tuesday when you asked me that same question, practice, practice, practice," Oliver said. "I do have to run to Diagon Alley this morning for an appointment, after that, I will be free for the day. Why?"

"Well, we have some new products that we are keen to discuss with you, if you're interested. Quidditch based ones," Fred admitted.

"Well, I don't see a reason that I can't swing by the shop. Meet ya there after lunch time then?" Oliver suggested as the twins placed thier mugs in the sink.

"Sounds like a plan, Mr. Quidditch-man! See you after lunch!" Both twins let themselves out.

While Hermione worked through the list, she spotted the name of a book that she knew was stored in the very back row of shelves and on the second from the top shelf. 'Well, I can save that for last' she thought to herself. It was almost 10:30 and she needed to gather up the book and notes for her appointment with Evan. Hermione walked down the stairs with her arms full and nodded at Evan while he was finishing up a sale in the Charmed Objects section of the store. He tossed his head towards his office in the back. Hermione opened the door to his office to see the same pristine arrangements in place, while some of the piles had changed sizes. She walked over to the wall of windows wherethe side table underneath was cleared off in order to examine books and other such literary items and laid out the papers and book that she was going to discuss with him. She glanced at her watch and noted it was 20 minutes before 11.

Evan entered the office with the dollar signs still showing in his large eyes. Hermione looked back at her work with a small smile on her pale pink lips.

"That went well I take it," Hermione asked.

"Very well. Now, onto Mr. Idlewilde. What did you have to show me?" Evan replied, placing his glasses on his face.

Being the organized creature that she normally is, Evan and Hermione got through the discrepancies rather quickly, in reality, only 15 minutes. He concurred with her findings and asked her to prepare a full report for Mr. Idlewilde that afternoon. Hermione had gathered up her notes and the text and was ready to walk out the door when Evan spoke again.

"By the way, I have a semi-regular customer coming in a few minutes to drop off an old text needing verification. I realize that it is very spur of the moment, but he is an old friend of mine and I have done some of these for him in the past. I would appreciate if you gave him a few moments," Evan asked kindly, his large eyes blinking slightly.

"Absolutely, Evan. I will be up in my office. You can just send him on up," Hermione replied.

"Thank you, Hermione," he said.

She smiled and let herself out of his office. 'Probably one of his cronies from years and years ago,' she muttered to herself as she climbed the steps to her sanctuary. She let herself into her office and placed the load in her arms down on the side table. Her stomach growled as she walked over to the pile of books she had already retrieved this morning. 'Well, hopefully this won't take too long and I can go to lunch' she thought as she walked back to the dark corner to retrieve the last book on the list. She pulled the ladder over and began to climb up, using the shelves as a handhold. As she reached the top, her hand grasped someodd-shaped documents lying on a shelf and slipped off the edge. The dust this created fell over her hair and black robe. She sneezed and tried to remove the excess dust from her robe and hair. This only caused more dust to float around and had her sneezing again. Hermione climbed back down the ladder and removed her robe to hang on the side of the ladder. Climbing back up, she realized how warm the air was near the ceiling. Her face was slightly flushed and her cheeks had a nice healthy tint to them by now. She reached the top of the ladder and was fighting with another book, trying to dislodge it so that she could remove the requested text. 'Oh bother,' she muttered.

A/N: that was fun to write. I just adore the comic relief of F & G. They are quite the humorous fellows. I would like to thank you all who have reviewed, as I am quite astonished. My little story...oh I could cry. not really hehehe

I adore HG/OW stories, so if you know of any gooduns, let me know. I have googled and searched several sites and have read I think all of them. At least the ones I found. hehehe Happy reading...onto Ch 4.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thank you to all those who have read and reviewed this humble submission. I find myself getting quite caught up in the story as well, and can't seem to stop writing it. It is past 2 am and here I am, submitting another few chapters. Can we say OBSESSIVE? lol

By the by, characters and some locations are not mine. I only take credit for anything that is not remotely familiar. JKR RULES!

_She reached the top of the ladder and was fighting with another book, trying to dislodge it so that she could remove therequested text. 'Oh bother,' she muttered_.

While Hermione was beginning her virtual war on dust and books in the stacks, Oliver walked into Flourish & Blotts carrying a largebag, similar to a messanger's bag, with his treasure in it. He walked back towards Evan's office and knocked politely on the door. Entrance was granted and he walked in seeing Evan speaking to someone in the fireplace. In any Muggle bookstore in the world, this would seem strange, but not in a wizarding bookstore. Oliver waited patiently by the door until the conversation was concluded, only a few moments really.

"Oliver! Grand to see you again. How are you today?" Evan asked, coming around his desk to shake Oliver's hand.

"I am doing well, Evan. Busy day today, eh?" Oliver remarked. He had seen a nice line of people waiting to pay for their purchases nearer the front of the store.

"Always. Our store seems like a mad crush all the time lately. Ever since we began that new catalogue advertising, our sales have tripled. But you don't want to talk financials with me. Do you have the book?" Evan eagerly inquired.

"Yes, it is here in my bag. Can I set it out over here?" Oliver asked, indicating the table Hermione just vacated.

"Certainly. Let me get my glasses."

Evan shuffled through several drawers as Oliver removed the book from his bag and laid it out reverently on the table. A few muttered curses and slammed drawers later, Oliver looked over to Evan scratching his chin, confused as to where his glasses disappeared to. Oliver reached over and tapped Evan on the head, and his glasses slid down onto his nose.

"Oh dear, I get so forgetful when I wear these cursed things. Always tucking them up on my head when I rub my eyes or want to look at something in large print," he chuckled.

"No problem," Oliver replied, with a small smile on his full lips. "Let's look this over then shall we?"

Several moments later, Evan stood back up and looked up at Oliver, who was almost half a foot taller than him.

"I can see why you want this authenticated. If it is what it seems to be, you have a delightful find on your hands there, worthy of your collection." Evan pushed his glasses up on his head again. "I can direct you to our researcher's office and you can fill her in on the particulars as far as purchase location, etc."

"And that is located…?" Oliver asked.

"Oh, yes. Um, one floor up, last door on the left. It is a larger office, but contains some absolutely wonderful texts on ancient languages." Evan started looking around again, patting his robe pockets and then stopped, felt on top of his head, and sure enough, there they were. He removed his glasses, and slipped them into his outside robe pocket.

"Thank you again, Evan. I will see you again soon, I hope." Oliver said as he packed his treasure up and began to exit the office, a full smile on his lips only when he had turned away from Evan.

"Good day Oliver," Evan said as he sat down at his desk to finish hisfigures for the earlier sale.

Oliver walked past several customers who all turned and followed his progress up the stairs. He subtly looked back over shoulder and saw practically the entire store checking out the rearview. 'I really need to start wearing my robe or cloak again' he said under his breath. He came to the last door on the left and knocked. No answer. He knocked again, this time a bit louder and heard a loud sneeze. He cracked open the door and looked in.

"Hello?" he asked the empty room. "Hello?" a bit louder this time.

"Yes, Hello. I am here; I will be right with you. Please have a seat," a slightly hoarse, but still very female, voice directed.

Oliver shut the door quietly and made his way over to the desk. On it, he saw several piles of papers, similar to Evan's desk below. He hefted his bag up and laid it on the desk, making sure to not disturb anything. He had experience dealing with people not liking their workspaces messed up, way back in his 7th year at Hogwarts. He stood there and reminisced about the setting down he had received from a little waif of a 3rd year. She was a fireball when it came to her studies though. Once, he hadwalked into the common room and was planning on working on some prime Quidditch plays, when he discovered his table, _his table_, was occupied. He flopped his bag down on top of the table, upsetting the young lady's essay on Arithmancy. She looked at her ruined essay then to him, stood up and had given him what for so well, he thought he was getting yelled at by his dear mother. His ears had turned red, as everyone in the room had turned to watch. She proceeded to lift his very heavy bag of books and papers, and toss it halfway across the common room. He looked at her and then at his bag, and then back to her. She had fire in her eyes and her chest was heaving with labored breaths while she stared him down, practically daring him to say something. He walked over to his bag, picked it up, and walked upstairs with as much dignity as he still had after that confrontation.

Oliver mused while he took his seat, 'So much passion at such a young age.' As he remembered the way her eyes flashed at him and her heaving chest. 'I bet sheis a real firecracker now, 12 years later,' he thought. What made him think of her at this moment, he couldn't imagine. Being around all these books certainly could be the catalyst, as he remembered she spent quite a bit of time in the library there at Hogwarts. A loud sneeze was heard as a lady came forward from the back of the large room, a fat book in her arms. Her hair was coming loose from its hold at the back and curly tendrils were caressing her face. Her face looked slightly flushed, and not at all like what he imagined. 'Hot spinster, indeed,' remembering his thoughts fromlast evening. Oliver quickly scanned his gaze over her hands and observed that although she wore rings, none were on her left ring finger.

"Thank you for waiting so patiently, sir." Her voice had that husky quality that made the hairs stand up on the back of neck. He watched her place the heavy book on the desk with a loud thump and reach up to brush her hair back from her face.

"Now," she said, "what do you-"her eyes widening at the sight before her. 'Old crony he is not' was the first thought Hermione grasped onto. Warm chocolate eyes looked back at her with a sparkle of humor and definite intelligence. She was locked into his gaze and felt a spark come to life inside the very depth of her soul, traveling up to her heart and causing her to shudder slightly. Hermione felt a flash of heat and then blinked twice to refocus herself. Her instincts took over and instant walls went up inside her mind and her heart. 'Not good,' she thought. Her gaze traveled around his broad shoulders and his quite handsome face, making sure not to look at his eyes again and noticing a small gap between his full lips as he cleared his throat.

Oliver watched her eyes widen and gaze into his. He could have sworn he saw her shoulders shake and watched her pupils slightly widen with a fire of passion that wassomewhat familiar. He watchedstill as she blinked twice and pulled the shutters down on her eyes. 'Interesting,' he thought. Her eyes traveled to his mouth and he thought he would die right there. He cleared his throat and said, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs.…"

'He is talking,' Hermione told herself. 'Answer him you dolt!'

"Uh, I am _Miss_ Hermione Granger."

A/N 3: So? What ya think? Is it steamy enough? or not enough? I like a slow build up myself. Launching directly into hot monkey love is not my style. ok, I guess that was a bit TMI. ROFL.

Read AND Review please. Thank you again.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I own nothing of this story that you recognize from the HP books. The world is all JKR's. I just live in it. LOL

'_He is talking,' Hermione told herself. 'Answer him you dolt!'_

"_Uh, I am Miss Hermione Granger."_

Oliver blinked several times. 'Well this just beats all,' he said laughingly in his head.

"Pleasure to meet you, uh, _again,_ Miss Granger." He replied.

"Again?" she asked.

"Yes. I am not sure if you recall, but we went to school together at Hogwarts for a few years."

Hermione looked at him again and tried to place his face. Strong features jumped out at her, as well as the broad shoulders. 'Yes dear, he has broad shoulders' her mind teased. He stood up and as she looked up at him from her diminutive 5'7" inches, her eyes widened again considerably. She swallowed with a little difficulty.

"Oliver? Is that really you?" she asked quietly.

Her voice was slight and musical now, the raspy quality almost gone.

"In the flesh." He replied.

A becoming blush came into her cheeks and she blinked again. The dust from the shelves was lightly coating her hair, so he wasn't sure exactly what color it was anymore, except for the warm darkness at the base of her neck. Her lavender sweater was absent any dust, and clung to her like a second skin. Her neck was slightly damp from working near the warm air at the ceiling and it glistened invitingly. Her small frame was encased in long, smooth black slacks that left everything to the imagination and boy, did he have a good imagination.

"Ahem, well, this is a pleasant surprise. How are you?" she asked, sinking into her chair.

He waited until she was seated before he sat back down.

"Quite well, thank you. And yourself?

"Um, well, fine I guess. I never expected that my appointment would be an old classmate of mine." She stated.

"Neither did I." Oliver said, shuffling a bit in his seat. "How long have you worked here?" he asked.

"A little over a year. I traveled abroad quite a bit after, ahem, afterwards, and completed my studies there," she said.

"I see," he remarked, "and how are the other two-thirds of the trio?"

Her eyes became warm immediately as she related that Harry was now a fully certified Auror and married to Ginny with a daughter and another child on the way. Ron worked at Hogwarts as the flying instructor, since Madam Hooch's retirement several years earlier. He also refereed the matches between the houses.

"I certainly don't have to ask what you have been up to," she teased. "On the cover of Quidditch Monthly almost half of the year and in the Daily Prophet society pages even more often. You have certainly kept busy."

He blushed slightly as he looked at his hands. "You know, you can't believe everything you read."

"Yes, I most certainly do know that from experience," Hermione all but whispered. She looked out the high window, recalling her 4th year at Hogwarts when Harry was entered in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. That was the year Cedric died and Voldemort rose again. Her eyes became sad and thoughtful.

A quiet came over the room as they both thought on all these things. Hermione closed those thoughts away for another time, another place, and brought her eyes back to Oliver and the task at hand.

"So, you have a text you want authenticated?" she asked.

"Oh, yes, of course. It is in this bag," he stated as he rose to remove the book from his messenger bag. He lifted the bag from the desk and removed the book, setting it down softly in front of her. He placed the bag at his feet as he sat back down.

Her eyes took on a wholly different gleam now that the book was in front of her. A new adventure waited in the pages and she gloried in the rush of adrenaline she felt. Her small hands lifted the cover carefully and she read the inscription inside. Her eyes widened and she looked up at Oliver, who was busy watching her expressions. His eyes caught hers and she smiled.

"Do you realize what you have here?" she asked eagerly.

"I know what I would like to be, but, after all, you are the expert" he replied.

She smiled as she relayed some of the history of the book to him. He nodded when appropriate and asked detailed questions. This surprised Hermione for some reason. She had always thought of him as an athlete, a completely obsessed Quidditch captain. She saw now that she was quite mistaken.

"So, do you think it is authentic?" Oliver asked a few moments after they stopped talking.

She looked up at him and said, "Well, I will need to do a bit of research on it to be certain. Wild guess where you got it though…Bulgaria?"

"Yes, on a trip for a match," he replied. "Is that significant?"

"Well, I have only ever seen one other edition of this particular book and it _was_ supposed to be the only copy in existence," Hermione murmured, the shutters on full force now.

"…and you suspect that this is the actual original?" Oliver queried.

"I have some inkling of what is true and what is false, but without examining both texts side by side, I cannot be 100 percent certain," Hermione stated flatly.

"Would it be difficult to obtain this other copy?"

"Um, well, of that I am not certain. I can tell you that without that examination, I won't be able to fully authenticate it. I am sorry." Hermione replied.

"Well, if you need both, I don't mind leaving this in your capable hands until this other copy be retrieved. Costs incurred and such things are quite understandable."

Hermione's eyes flared briefly and she was about to state that she would not in any way be traveling to retrieve the other copy when her stomach betrayed her and let loose a loud rumble.

Oliver's eyes widened slightly and then he smiled. He glanced at his watch and observed that is was almost noon.

"Would you care to join me for some lunch while we discuss the finer details?" he gallantly offered.

She almost immediately declined, but was struck by his smiling face and open expression. 'This is Oliver, for crying out loud,' she thought to herself. 'He wouldn't hurt a fly.'

"I would be delighted." Hermione stated as she rose to secure the ancient tome in her desk and retrieve her cloak. She found it to be ready and waiting in Oliver's hands. She blushed slightly and allowed him to help her into the cloak, his large warm hands smoothing out the back near her shoulders.

Oliver was smoothing the cloak over her shoulders when her perfumed scent assaulted his nose.

"Is that lavender?" He asked gruffly as he opened her door.

"Why, yes. I grow it in my garden and concoct an infusion to use in my shampoo. Not many people recognize it. I try to keep it subtle, as some folks have touchy sinuses around here. Probably from the dust," she chuckled.

"Speaking of dust, you have some on your hair." Oliver mentioned.

Hermione felt her hair. The dust that rose from that small pat was enough to make her sneeze. As she did, her pins securing her bun from that morning came loose and allowed her long curls to fall down her back.

Oliver swallowed hard and whispered, "Just a moment," as he preformed the _Scurgify_ spell. "There we are, all neat and tidy."

"Thank you." Hermione said quietly as her face flamed in embarrassment. She pulled the last of the pins from her hair and fluffed it with her fingers a bit before she walked right into her office door.

"Ow!" She exclaimed.

"Sorry, I didn't open it all the way yet." Oliver apologized. "That was entirely my fault."

"No worries," she replied, rubbing her forehead.

"Shall we try to get out of the store before we implode it in on itself?" he chuckled.

"Yes, please." Hermione turned after they had both safely made it through the opening and whispered her locking enchantments.

Oliver allowed her to go ahead of him, while he followed at a respectful distance. Or perhaps disrespectful. He was admiring the way Hermione walked, her head held high as she maneuvered around others and spoke to her co-workers. She wasn't snooty, but very focused. He managed to avoid any female customers while he followed her out of the book store and into Diagon Alley.

"Where to?" she asked.

"Well, there is this great Italian bistro around the corner from Madam Malkin's, if you care to try it. I have heard of it, but never been there myself. It is a bit off the beaten path, which is honestly why it appeals to me," Oliver stated.

Hermione didn't have to ask why. They were receiving some interesting looks from the other patrons shopping in Diagon Alley that day.

"Sounds _perfecto_," she said, with an almost perfect accent.

"You speak Italian as well?" Oliver asked, while guiding her through the street with his hand on her elbow.

"Well, being versed in several languages is almost a requirement in my line of work. How else would I know if what I was reading was accurate or not?" she said, as she struggled to fight back the rising heat from his soft touch at her side.

"True," he mused as he led the way into a small bistro well off the beaten path, perfect for romantic interludes and private assignations.

As the hostess directed them to a small table near the back of the outdoor patio, Hermione felt the warmth of Oliver's hand at the small of her back. Such gentlemanly manners had not been extended to her in a long time and she was a bit out of practice. She tried to focus as he held out her chair for her. Their table was located in an intimate corner of the patio, surrounded by potted plants that were at least six feet tall. The sunshine was beating down outside, but overhead was an old fashioned pergola with thick vines that kept out the heat and allowed only beams and shadows to intrude onto the little patio.

After taking his seat and passing Hermione a menu, Oliver already knew what he wanted, as Italian food was one of his weaknesses. He made sure they had the fusilli for a first course and the Etruscan beef dish as a second. Seeing as it was only lunch, there was no need for a dessert serving. Oliver sat back in his chair as the waiter brought their sparkling water, no bubbles and the bread basket. His eyes perused over his menu to watch Hermione reading it with concentration, all the while moving her lips slightly. Watching her pale pink lips form the Italian words was almost magical to him. He quickly looked back at his menu when she happened to glance up and almost caught him staring at her.

The waiter came back and as they ordered, Hermione conversing with the waiter in fluent Italian, Oliver chanced a glance at her again. The sunbeams making their way through the vines were lighting her hair just so. The blond curls and streaks throughout the surface were shimmering while the deep darkness underneath it all was just begging for his fingers to delve into it. Once the waiter left with their order, Oliver reached for some bread just as Hermione did and their fingers brushed together. She let out a slight gasp and instantly, her cheeks were a flattering pink. He quickly took his bread and buttered it, placing the knife down across his plate and took a bite. He looked off to the side and could barely make out people walking to and fro through the plants.

Hermione retrieved her bread but just set it on her bread plate. She raised her water glass to her lips and studied Oliver over the rim as he looked out to the street. His face was a masterpiece really, she thought. Strong chiseled features, without any one being in particular prominence. He kept his brown hair shorter, but not close to his head like in school. It fell neatly around his head and was tipped lighter slightly from being in the outdoors 75 percent of the time. His fingers were long but very manly. Not dainty or pampered, the calluses from his chosen profession could be seen in the palms. Hands that could harm if necessary but be gentle as well. Oh my, she thought, I need to stop this line of thinking now. Fantasizing over what Oliver could be doing with those wonderful hands was going to get her in trouble.

A/N: Whew! Is it warm in here or is it just me? Just me you say? Well, guess MY imagination is working fine too then. LOL

Read and review please. If you have any suggestions, feel free. If it is fine as it is...I will just continue along my little interlude.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Firstly, none of it is mine, except for the plot. Please don't come after me, I am just a stay at home mom with entire too much time on her hands! JKR is due all the credit for the characters and scenes you recognize.

Side note here: I really really hate dialogue. I enjoy reading it and I enjoy setting the stage so to speak, but when it comes to conversations, I suck. If you find the dialogue a bit stale, please let me know. I will try to spice it up or down, depending on your review. Thank you for your attention.

_Fantasizing over what Oliver could be doing with those wonderful hands was going to get her in trouble._

As the waiter brought the first course, Hermione channeled her mind onto the real reason they were there having lunch. As she worked her way through her pomodoro salad, she asked Oliver questions about how he had acquired the rare book that had brought them together.

"So, how did you acquire this book exactly?" Hermione asked.

Oliver set down his fork, and steepled his fingers together, in a move all too similar to Professor Dumbledore.

"I enjoy spending time in the cities we visit throughout the season. I like to walk around and soak up the natural vibe the flows through them. It is very real and much more enlightening than sticking to the 'tourist' traps. I find myself perusing antique dealers and old bookstores a lot when I travel. I found that particular book in a Muggle bookstore in Sofia, of all places, just sitting on a shelf in plain sight," he chuckled, picking up his fork again. (A/N: Sofia is the capital of Bulgaria.)

"And you recognized it for what it may actually be?" Hermione asked incredulously.

Oliver looked up and said, "Well, no. Not initially. I was just flipping through it when all of sudden, my hands got extremely warm on the cover and the pages just seem to fly open of their own volition. It settled on a particular page and I recognized the writing to be ancient Gaelic, from my own history. I tried to decipher it but was not able to. I realized at that point that it was a find indeed, since no other writings in it were the same. So, I bought it," he finished.

Hermione finished her salad, and after placing her napkin to the side, picked up her water glass.

"Hmm. Do you know any history of the previous owner?" she asked nonchalantly, taking a sip.

"No, the employee at said bookstore was not very well informed. If I had been able to speak to the manager, I am certain they would have known, but at that time, she was the only one there," he replied. He pushed his food around his plate. Setting his fork down, he looked up and asked, "Why do I feel like you don't believe me?"

Hermione set down her glass. "It isn't that, honestly. I just know that I was privy to loads of information during my studies, and I never heard tell of any other copies of this book in existence."

"So, where did you encounter this other copy?" Oliver asked, as the wait staff removed their dishes.

"In a castle outside of Sofia," she replied quietly, fiddling with the stem on her water glass.

"I see. How long did you study there?" he wondered.

"For two years."

"That long?" Oliver said. "I would've thought you could go through three libraries the size of Hogwarts by then," a gentle smirk playing on his lips.

Hermione's eyes flashed upward at his obvious flattery.

"Well, I normally could have, if I hadn't been distracted."

A-ha, Oliver thought. 'Now we are getting somewhere.' "And what distracted you so completely?"

Hermione replied defensively, "Ahem, uh, well, I was visiting an old friend and-"at which point, the second course had arrived.

Oliver picked up his fork. "Listen, I don't mean to pry. I understand about getting distracted, believe me. I would really like to get the background on this book if I can, or I should say, if _you_ can. So any help I can give, I will."

"Thank you, for the understanding. And for the offer," Hermione said plainly. "I am just not sure it will be useful to go traipsing around Bulgaria looking for confirmation that your book is indeed what we think it is."

"How else will we find out?" He asked in between bites of a superb Etruscan beef dish.

"Well, I can put out some owl posts asking for information on any other knowledge of it. It may not prove fruitful, but discreetly asking for someone else's expertise is always a good start," Hermione said, taking small bites of her meal.

"Sounds good to me," Oliver replied. "Should we make a date to meet, say once a week, to compare notes?"

Hermione's eyes closed at the word 'date'.

"Hermione?" Oliver asked.

"Yes, an appointment once a week would be fine," she said quietly.

"Is something wrong?" Oliver probed.

"No, no. Of course not." She replied quickly.

Too quickly, if Oliver was any judge of it. They finished their meal, and as the waiter took their plates, he inquired if they would enjoy an after dinner espresso.

"Yes, two please," Oliver replied while observing Hermione's pale face. Her hands fidgeted with her napkin while she looked to be in deep thought. "Hermione? Is that okay with you?"

Hermione looked up and saw concern in the dark depths of Oliver's eyes.

"What? Oh, yes, an espresso would be wonderful, thank you."

Hermione settled her mind on the subject of dating and all that entailed. 'He didn't ask you out, silly girl. He wants to get to the bottom of this mystery surrounding his book,' her inner voice chided. 'Yes, yes. I know,' she told herself.

"So…" Oliver began.

Hermione looked up and put a smile on her now calm features.

"Yes, so…" She replied. "So, what have you been up to besides being an international celebrity and admired by thousands of screaming fans?"

Oliver blushed slightly. "Well, Quidditch takes up most of my time. With practices and matches, I am traveling to and from the pitch with much regularity. I try to keep my life as simple as possible, as distractions don't play well with my schedule these days."

"I see. And do you get distracted often?" she asked playfully.

Oliver looked at her to see only open curiosity on her face, with perhaps a bit of mischief in her tone, but no underlying motive present. He shifted in his chair uncomfortably.

"Like I said, I try not to. It is certain that sometimes it does happen, but not too frequently," he replied, wondering if she was referring to what _he_ thought she was referring to.

"Well, that is nice. A neat orderly life is all we can strive for, and cope with the distractions as they come. Do you have a flat here in town by the pitch, or do you live elsewhere?" Hermione asked, feeling slightly flushed as she realized what her question might convey. 'Ah well, it is out there now. Can't take that back. I only hope he doesn't think I want to see his flat' she thought to herself.

Oliver was surprised by her question, but decided to ignore the pure male response rattling in his brain saying 'invite her over man!'

"I purchased a small house outside of Ottery St. Catchpole a couple years back. It is comfortable, but I am hardly there except to sleep really. The finer points of decorating are lost on me, so it looks like what you would expect a bachelor flat to look like. Very little furniture," he chuckled.

"Well, as long as you have a bed, what else do you need," Hermione said offhand, and immediately regretted her words. "Uh, I mean. Oh, look, our coffee is here," she replied quickly, a becoming blush fighting its way onto her face.

Oliver used his napkin to hide his smile as he accepted his espresso and fought down the roaring beastie in him that said, 'Oh, she so wants you.'

They continued the small talk over their coffee and he discovered that she lived near Diagon Alley in a slightly affluent neighborhood. It wasn't much, she said, but it was home for now. Oliver was intrigued at how their simple conversation and the slight blushes when she may have said the wrong thing were enveloping him completely. He looked into her eyes and saw no guile, no machinations. Just pure goodness and honesty, with a distinct touch of sorrow. He wondered about that, about what had happened to mark her soul so completely. 'She fought against Voldemort, for crying out loud. What more excuse do you need, bud?' his mind growled at him. But he sensed it was deeper than that.

"Oliver? Hello? Are you there?" Hermione was waving her hand in his face.

"What? Oh, sorry, drifted off there for a moment," he said gruffly, quickly finishing his now cooled espresso.

"That is ok, I am used to people zoning out when I speak about books and my work," she replied with a slight chuckle.

"Oh, no. Please, don't think you are boring me," Oliver replied, afraid he had offended her. "It wasn't that, I just got caught up in how easy it is to talk to you. You aren't after my body or my money and it is so refreshing to speak with someone who has an interest outside of where I placed on Witch Weekly Top 10 Hottest players," he replied with a slight edge to his voice.

"I see. Well, thank you, I think," Hermione said. She glanced down at her watch. "Oh my word, it is 12:30. I have to get back to work."

As Oliver paid the check and they collected their things, he once again helped her with her cloak. This time he reached for her mass of curls at her neck and lifted her hair to place it outside of the cloak. As he did so, his roughened finger tips grazed her neck and a feeling of warmth spread through her like melted gold, from that point on her neck, down to her toes. Her eyes widened as the spark that she had felt earlier in her office flared briefly.

"All set then?" Oliver asked, offering his arm.

Hermione nodded stiffly and timidly took his arm. They walked back to the store in silence, each focused on their own thoughts racing inside. When they reached Flourish & Blotts front entrance, she removed her hand from his arm, and smoothed her cloak with it.

Oliver rocked on his feet, and quietly asked, "So, when shall we meet again? To discuss the progress of the research."

"Hmm, well, I am free next Tuesday afternoon if you like. It is my early day. Once a week, each of us gets one day to leave early and Tuesday is mine," she replied.

"Okay, well that is fine with my schedule too. I do have a practice in the morning that day, but it is over with around 2. Would you like to meet me at the stadium, or would someplace else be better?"

"No, the stadium is fine. 2, you say? How about we meet at 2:30? That will give you enough time to clean up and be ready to focus on research, instead of what went right or wrong in practice," Hermione said with a slight smirk.

"How did you-"

"Oliver, I was best friends with your seeker for three years. I remember your attitude after practices," Hermione said with a laugh.

"Oh," he replied sheepishly. "That bad eh?"

"No, not at all. We all just understood to stay clear of you for at least a ½ hr afterwards," she said.

"Heh, well. So, Tuesday at 2:30 then?" he asked.

"Sounds good." Hermione stuck out her hand and he took it in both of his and lifted it to his lips.

"Til then, fair lady," he said with a gallant flourish, his accent giving his words a melodic quality.

Hermione blushed and saw the glint in his eye. She rolled her eyes heavenward and laughed as he smiled down at her.

"You are a nut, Mr. Oliver Wood," she said severely, with the unmistakable glow of humor in her eyes.

"Yup, that's me," he replied. "I will see you on Tuesday. Good afternoon, Miss Granger."

He winked and went walking past her on his way to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, whistling an old Scottish reel.

Hermione shook her head once and proceeded to enter the bookstore. She had lots of letters to write before Tuesday, as she wanted to have something worthwhile to discuss with him when they met again.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Not mine. All JKR's. Thank the heavens for her imagination.

As Oliver walked towards the twins shop, his step was lighter than it had been in a long time. Lunch with Hermione was invigorating to his spirit. His daily routine had become a bit mundane as of late. Seeing her again had punched a hole in it, but not in a bad way. He found himself thinking about her eyes when she had first touched the book he had brought. The sparkle of anticipation and thrill of discovery was almost tangible. Her passionate nature had not diminished over the past decade, and he was glad for that. Knowing some of what she went through in the final battle with Voldemort, through others relaying the events, he admired that she kept hold of what mattered to her. So many people had returned from battles scarred and unable to function other than to just exist daily. To see Hermione's excitement and listen to her talk about her work was fascinating to him. 'Imagine,' he thought. 'An obsessive like me admiring that quality in someone else.' He was aware of what others thought of his almost singular focus on his profession. Only those who were in Quidditch leagues or had played the game, could relate, and not even then, sometimes. Take the twins, for instance.

Fred and George had been some of the best Beaters he had ever known. Their abilities stretched far beyond the pranks and humor they displayed on a regular basis. While they were on the pitch, they played hard. Off of it, they played even harder. Oliver had a hard time reconciling that when he was in school. He had often thought back then if they had dedicated as much to Quidditch as they did to their pranks, they would have been unbeatable every year. Now, he saw what they had known way back then. Their passion for humor and pranking was what drove them and made them the players they were. Knocking a Slytherin off their broom was, in itself, humorous. That was why they did it.

He found himself in front of their store with its bright displays and colorful flyers. The twins had really found their niche. The business had been growing strong ever since its inception. A short lull had occurred during the war, for obvious reasons. The owners were part of the Order of the Phoenix, which no one had known back then. Their absence had been attributed to several different things; anything from attacks of Death Eaters to rivals in the business. None of that was true, obviously, but once they had returned, the business boomed even more so. Now, they were the premier joke/candy establishment in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade.

Oliver pushed his way into the busy store, filled to the brim with young children. Seeing as Hogwarts was just about finished with the final term, all of the children now milling about were under first years. Several parents were trying to hurry their broods along and the noise was almost too much. Two young boys, looking to be around 10 years old, with slightly reddish blonde hair were off to the side looking at the Skiving Snackboxes, trying to avoid their mother's observation, as she was busy corralling a young girl with straight blonde hair, who was straining to look at the Pygmy Puffs. They pooled their change and were about to make a purchase from the oblivious assistant, when Oliver placed his hands on their shoulders.

"Now boys, you know that your mother would have a conniption if you actually purchased those items," he uttered in a menacing tone.

The two boys froze and slowly glanced up at the man who was speaking to them. The assistant blinked at Oliver and hurried off to help another customer. Oliver looked down at the twin innocent facades and stifled a chuckle. 'Weasley genes rule the roost it would seem,' he thought to himself, as the two boys tried to return the items without being seen by their mother, who made her way over to them with a very disgruntled young lady in tow.

"Boys, I zware, if you try to purceez anuzzer ting, I will tell zor fazzer and let heem deal with you!" their mother exclaimed. Her accent always showed itself when she was flustered or angry.

Oliver schooled his face to show nothing but indifference as he looked at Fleur Weasley. Her veela blood, although only partial on her grandmother's side, was effective no more so then when her emotions were high. Luckily, Oliver had some experience dealing with it from visiting with the family for so many years.

"Good day to you, Madam Weasley," Oliver offered in his most controlled voice.

Fleur looked up at him as she finished glaring at her offspring. "Good day to you, Meester Wood. How are you?"

"Well, thank you. These little scamps are a handful, are they not?"

"You don't know ze half of it," she uttered vehemently. "Nowadays, I have complete sympathy for Molly. Theez two take too much after zere uncles!"

"Well, try to not to be too tough on the poor wee mites," his accent coming out as well. "Molly may seem fearsome, but she was only worried about keeping the twins safe, at least most days," Oliver chuckled.

"True, true," Fleur said. "We must be off, as our zhopping seems to be fini for today," which was met with groans all around.

Oliver covered the grin that materialized on his face away with a cough and said, "Well, you have a pleasant afternoon then. Give Bill my best," as he bowed gallantly. Fleur nodded and the family walked out the door amid pleas for a stop at Fortescue's and Oliver was certain that the ice cream shop would be a detour on the way home. Oliver shook his head and made his way to the back of the store.

"Oi, Wood! Been expecting you for almost an hour," George exclaimed as he was ringing up customers.

"Sorry about that, George. My appointment took a bit longer than anticipated. So, where are the new inventions?" he asked.

"In the back. You know the way, of course," Fred said as he came from the aforementioned area with some boxes teetering on top of each other, threatening to fall at any moment.

"Need any help there, Fred?" Oliver asked, just waiting for the boxes to tumble.

"Nah, got it well in hand. Just go on back, we will be finished up here in a few."

Oliver nodded and proceeded to the back room, where several tables were set up with potions and experiments. The bubbling cauldrons reminded Oliver of Snape's classroom and caused him to shudder. 'Bad memories there,' he reminded himself. He busied himself clearing off a bench next to a table where a cauldron was bubbling away, steam rising in spirals. This potion that smelled suspiciously like broom polishing oil, the Highlands of his home, Scotland, and something else he couldn't quite put his finger on had a shiny opal sheen to it. It was familiar yet distinct. 'Hm, I wonder what that is,' he thought to himself, as he relaxed on the bench. (A/N: Can you guess?)

"I still think you should put the more dangerous items up higher, guys. Small ones could get hurt if they aren't being watched closely," a distinctly female voice called out. A girl with a head of dark red hair curled up near the middle of her shoulders and deep green eyes came through the doorway and with her eyes glued on a drawer in a cabinet near the back wall, she never noticed Oliver sitting there, observing quietly. Her hand reached up and tugged the drawer open and just as she reached in, a loud voice was heard.

"Chelsea Lily Potter! If you don't put that back, there will be no TV for a week," as Ginny walked through the doorway. Chelsea dropped what she had in her hand, and pushed the drawer closed. No TV meant no Quidditch matches.

"But, Mummy, they are only Acid Pops," she pleaded with big tears threatening to fall.

"I will not have you ruining your dinner, young lady. Now say hello to the nice gentleman you have intruded upon," Ginny reprimanded.

Oliver's eyebrow raised as he was addressed the very pregnant and very beautiful Ginny Potter. "Nice gentleman, eh?"

"Hello, sir. My name is Chelsea Potter. Pleased to make your acquaintance," Chelsea said as she did a slight bob with her hands out at her sides.

Oliver almost burst out laughing right there. Ginny's eyes shone with the same laughter.

"Very pleased to meet you, Miss Potter. My name is-" Oliver began.

"Oliver Wood, Captain and Keeper for the Puddlemere United for the past 10 years, Reserve Keeper for two years before that, and Captain/Keeper for Gryffindor the three years preceding. You also won the Quidditch Cup in your 7th year at Hogwarts and were reputed to be the strictest Captain ever to grace Hogwarts halls," Chelsea finished with an air of authority.

"CHELSEA!" Ginny exclaimed, a bright red flush creeping up her face.

Oliver laughed out loud this time. "It is ok, Ginny. I have been aware of my less than sterling reputation for sometime in regards to my career at Hogwarts."

Ginny apologized just the same. "I am so sorry, Oliver. I don't know where she learned to speak that way. The only other person I know who talks like that is her godmother and she seldom visits. I almost wonder if they don't have some little secret society behind my back, some days," Ginny sighed, wrinkling her nose at her daughter.

"Who is her godmother?" Oliver asked, although he had a suspicion he already knew.

"Why, Hermione Granger, of course," Fred offered, as he and George came into the back room. "Little Chelsea is the smaller version of our favorite know-it-all."

"I see," Oliver said as his suspicion was confirmed.

"Yup, poor little Ginny here is stuck having a know-it-all as a best friend and living in the same house, all at once," George said as he lifted his niece into the air and swung her around like an airplane.

Oliver kind of nodded and thought they were being too hard on poor Hermione. 'Now, where did that come from,' he asked himself. It was common knowledge that Hermione _was_ a know-it-all, always ready with the answer in school and in life. He would have to examine that more at a later time.

"So, Oliver. What took you so long this afternoon?" Fred asked as he slipped Chelsea a couple Acid Pops while Ginny was trying to find a way to sit down on the bench next to Oliver.

Oliver held his arm out to her so she could balance and settle herself as gracefully as possible in her state of pregnancy. She smiled her thanks and motioned for Chelsea to come sit with her.

Oliver looked back at George and Fred and said simply, "Meeting ran longer than I thought it would. It will be interesting to see where it leads over the next couple weeks," he stated, thinking more of Hermione than the mystery of the book. His eyes had darkened and Fred and George looked at one another with a grin. They had seen that look before. Oliver had met a girl. It was time for Operation Bird Watch. This simply meant that they wouldn't rest until they knew who she was, how they met, and if she was suitable for their best bud. Fred and George had witnessed first hand the last few times Oliver had been burned and they were not anxious to see it again. For the past few years, he had practically sworn off women in general. Simply was too much bother, Oliver told the twins several times.

Fred cleared his throat and Oliver's eyes swung back into focus. "So, you want to check out these new products we invented or what?"

"Ugh, guys. Chelsea and I are gonna make ourselves scarce. The last time you came up with new products, I had to practically soak her in a bath for 3 hours to remove all the spots," Ginny said hotly.

"Hey! We can't help it if our favorite test subject wanted to try our new Dotty Drink without permission. Kids will be kids, you know, Ginevra dear," George said, batting his eyes at his only sister.

"Don't give me that look, mister. You are just lucky I didn't tell Mum about it," Ginny said as she tried to stand back up, only succeeding with Oliver's arm yet again.

"She's right, George. Can you imagine the two of them in stereo?" Fred said with a look of horror on his face.

Ginny stuck out her tongue at her brothers and then proceeded to hug and kiss them on her way out. "It was very nice to see you again, Oliver. Don't be a stranger, okay?"

"I will try not to, Gin. Tell Harry hello from me. And it was a singular pleasure to meet you, my dear Miss Chelsea," he said as he took her hand and kissed it, just as he had with Hermione earlier.

Chelsea's eyes got wide and she exhibited another Weasley trait, the red flush on the cheeks. "T-t-thank you, Mr. Wood." Chelsea followed her mother out into the shop front, looking back at Oliver one more time.

"Oh boy, that one will be a handful in another 10 years. Thank goodness she has plenty of cousins to look out for her," Fred and George said at the same time.

"Now, on with the show."

Oliver spent another hour looking over the twins' experiments and giving a few ideas as to names and selling points of each. He especially liked the Sneezing Snitch, which once eaten, would cause the victim to start sneezing uncontrollably. It would be good for getting out of classes, similar to their earlier successes, the Skiving Snackboxes. An antidote had yet to be concocted, Fred had informed him, but no products would be sold until they could make sure it wasn't extremely long lasting.

Once they were finished, the twins offered Oliver a butterbeer and they proceeded to grill him over the new development they suspected in his life.

"So, Oliver, your meeting went well today then?" Fred asked.

Oliver looked at him with a knowing glare. "Yes, Fred, it was fine."

"What was it about again?" George fired off.

"A book I have acquired recently on a trip. I wanted to get it authenticated," Oliver answered plainly, taking a relaxed swig of his butterbeer.

"Uh huh. And where did you go to get that done?" Fred grilled.

"Flourish & Blott's, of course," Oliver said.

"Hmm, they have a way to authenticate books, do they?" George said mysteriously.

"Come, come, gentlemen. You know, you are getting very bad at this," Oliver observed with a twinkle in his eye. "I can remember when you were able to get people to admit anything you wanted without being so blatantly obvious about it."

"Aw, c'mon, Ollie. Who is she?" Fred pleaded. "We know there is someone, we can tell."

"Hmm, well, we don't know that for certain yet, my dear brother," George stated.

Oliver and Fred both looked at him with questions in their eyes.

"Dear ole Ollie could have been just speaking with Mr. Dearborn, the manager there. He is the one who would know rare books and the like," George continued.

"And just how do you know that, my mirror image?" Fred asked incredulously.

"Because remember that book that we 'found' at Great Aunt Lulu's a couple years ago? I took it to Mr. Dearborn, and he said that it was a forgery, but a very good one. Offered me several Galleons for it, but I turned him down and returned it," George said.

"But George, did you realize all that was contained in that book?" Fred asked with a horrified expression on his face.

"Yes I did. But the sheer volume of Mum's voice if she ever realized we nicked that book would have been heard by dear old Voldie himself in hell. I wasn't about to risk it. So, I returned it and no one has ever been the wiser."

"I'm impressed, George. I would've thought a book on how to create miniature dragons disguised as candy would be right up your alley," Oliver stated after he finished his butterbeer and set the bottle on the bench with a distracted attitude.

"How did you know about that?" Now it was George's turn to be incredulous.

"Mr. Dearborn knew that I knew you both, and wondered if I would put in a good word for him as far as to your selling that book. I told him I would never endorse a colleague unless I knew the motivation behind it. He relayed some of what the book contained and I knew it was a no-go. Your mother would have skinned us _all_ alive," Oliver said with a shudder. Molly Weasley's temper with her twin boys was almost legendary, at least among their friends.

"You never said a word. That is so unlike you, Oliver. That is more like something we would do," Fred said, a wide grin making its way onto his face. "Now **I** am impressed."

They all laughed. Oliver rose and shook hands with Fred. "Thank you, guys. I really enjoyed being here this afternoon. I have to head out, have a late meeting with the manager of the team." He moved over to George.

George shook Oliver's hand while Fred mouthed the words "INVITE HIM TO THE BURROW!" behind Oliver's back. "Hey Ollie," George blurted as Oliver was about to go through the back door.

Oliver turned around. He had almost got out before they got too much information. "Yes?" he said warily.

"Listen, not this Sunday, but next, Mum's having a big ole picnic at the house. She says that the warmer weather will be here by then, and she is usually right. You fancy heading over for a good old fashioned home cooked meal?" George asked.

"I could never say no to your mother's cooking, guys. I will try to be there. I know we get back from our match in Ireland late Friday evening. Have to talk to the coach to see about practice schedules and such. Can I let you know for certain later?" Oliver asked, hoping to get out of there before they caught on to his diversionary tactics.

"Sure," Fred replied. "We will tell Mum to expect you, but you know her, she always makes more than enough anyway. Sound good?"

"Sounds good. Later, guys," Oliver said as he made his way to the alley behind their building. He turned on his heel and left with a pop.

"How could you just let him leave like that?" Fred yelled as he glared at the back door. We got nothing from that little interrogation. ARRGH! I was about to slip some Veritaserum in his butterbeer, let me tell you," Fred ranted while he paced around the back room. His twin just sat on a bench and looked intently at his nails. Fred stopped his pacing. "What is wrong with you, George?"

"Nothing. I just happened to get quite a bit out of it, is all."

"You did? What did you get? Huh? What?" Fred bounced like a kid on Christmas morning.

"I got the identity of our mystery lady."

"HOW?" Fred yelled.

"By knowing that for the last year or so, Mr. Dearborn is no longer working in the authentication department at F & B," George said calmly, still looking at his nails. He reached up to buff them on his shirt.

"George, you are really starting to get on my last nerve," Fred threatened.

"Calm down."

"George…"

"Okay, I will say this. The authentication department is now being helmed by none other than our _favorite_ know-it-all," George said with a definite waggle to his eyebrows

Fred grinned like it was he had just won the lottery, and it was Christmas and his birthday all in one day.

O

O

O

A/N: I had originally planned on putting several days together in this chapter, but having fun with the twins is addictive. It just won't stop coming. LOL Please read AND review. I am so pleased that many are reading my fledging attempt at writing. It feeds my perfectionist soul, but I find myself wondering why no one is reviewing. Ah well, I will ask a question and then we will see what happens. When do you think they should have their first kiss? Next chapter? Later? Wait til the end? (GASP!) Let me know. Thank you again for reading, please review.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Credits go to JKR. I just fiddle with her world. Also, this is a bit of a tearjerker. Have tissues handy if you are a sap like me.

* * *

Saturday morning was neither bright and sunny, nor wet and rainy. It was just that normal London day, when clouds float across the sky, sometimes showing a glimpse of blue, and then it is gone in just a blink. Hermione looked out her window as the latest owl left. It was almost time for her lunch, and she had much to think about over her soup and sandwich. The news was not good, at least to her. Of 18 owls sent out to the most respected, or at least, knowledgeable, specialists in her field, 14 had returned with one name, and one name only.

_Ivan Sprodorov._

Hermione knew him of course. He was her mentor at the Bulgarian Conservatory when she studied there. At that time, he was just the professor of Language Arts and History. Now, he was the dean of the entire antiquities department. His title was not what dismayed her. It was his location that bothered her. Bulgaria. A place that held both good and bad memories for her, painful memories. Some of the most painful ones she has experienced so far in her young life, and there have been quite a few. A member of the trio was certain to experience heartbreak and sadness at some point along the line. But the ones that scarred her soul and built her walls inside happened when she wasn't with her best friends. It was achingly poetic that they occurred while she was alone, without them there to keep her spirits up. Hermione was shocked when she thought this, for it had never occurred to her before. It felt almost like a betrayal on her part to think that way about her best friends. She swept those thoughts aside to think on later, yet again. She never seemed to be able to focus on them for any significant time, because to do so would paralyze her for a time, and she had much to do, papers to write, books to find, books to put away. Just entirely too much to do.

She internally shook herself and sat up. The report on Mr. Idlewilde's text was finished yesterday. Evan pronounced it top notch and consented to her continuing the research for Oliver. He had a warmth about him when he agreed and Hermione could tell that this was a personal, as well as, professional courtesy Evan extended towards Oliver. Hermione smiled slightly, thinking it was just one more facet of Oliver's personality she never would have thought of. The professional aspect of it was obvious. If the authentication department at F & B's could take credit for this major find, even through a customer, it would mean major attention on the international scene. Evan's motives there were not a surprise at all.

What did surprise Hermione was that as much as she was excited about the book and the chance to perhaps discover one of the magical world's greatest treasures, she was more excited about seeing Oliver at their appointment on Tuesday. Since their lunch meeting earlier in the week, she was constantly bombarded at the oddest times by the memories of his touch, his smile, and his eyes most of all. She had been walking to her flat yesterday afternoon, on her way home from the market. She took a shortcut through the park and she seen a couple sitting on a bench. The way the gentleman was looking at his companion, with such deep love and compassion present in his eyes, struck her deep in her core and reminded her of when she first looked into Oliver's eyes in her office. The openness conveyed in them and spark of heat she had felt made her face flush again and she had to look away, lest she embarrass herself and the couple on the bench. She practically floated to her flat after that.

She was quite embarrassed even now. 'This is a working relationship,' she thought to herself sternly, 'not some whirlwind Muggle romance novel.' She laughed mockingly to herself. "A man like Oliver Wood is NOT, and WOULD not be interested in you in that way, _Hermione Granger_," she chided softly. Hearing bells ring throughout the city of London, Hermione realized that it was indeed lunchtime and she rose to take her meal to the nearby park and enjoy a pleasant day outdoors, even if it was cloudy. She had other things to think on besides. Ginny had swung by the other day with Chelsea in tow, and had asked Hermione if she was interested in a Girls Day, with complete pampering included. Hermione normally wasn't, but for some reason, she agreed. The talk they had almost had the other day couldn't be put off forever, and Hermione knew it. Ginny was like a pit bull that way, she wouldn't let it rest. Sunday afternoon at 1 Ginny and Hermione would be pampering toes, nails, faces, and hair. Hermione hoped she survived it.

OoOoOoOoO

The door to Hermione's flat was opened with a flourish and on the other side stood Ginny with bags of goodies and a big grin.

"I am so glad you agreed to this, hun," Ginny said as she breezed in, placing her things on Hermione's kitchen table. "I brought just about everything we should need, and," she stalled, "a few things we don't." She pulled out a small cake with cocoa sprinkled on the top and cream layers throughout.

"Tiramisu?" Hermione exclaimed. "Oh, my. I haven't had that is ages. I have missed it so much since I left Italy. You just can't find it made right here anywhere."

Ginny placed it in Hermione's fridge, inspecting the inside as she did. Fruits, veggies, not spoilt milk? She thought. Hmm, someone went to the store. She closed the fridge door.

"Yes, I went shopping. I knew you would harass me about it if my fridge only contained left over take out and nasty cheese," Hermione said laughing.

"I just worry about you. Is that a crime?" Ginny asked, pretending to be all hurt.

"No, I am glad you do. It gives me hope," Hermione said, and clapped her hands together once. "So, what else do you have for us today?"

Two hours later, with their hair in foil to add highlights, the two girls were painting each other's toes, having already done their nails. Music filtered through the flat from the wireless and laughter rang out as they discussed boys, teachers, and changes at Hogwarts.

Ginny laughed and said, "So then, he tells them to kick off, and one girl shoots up so high, he had to retrieve her before she fell. He said he was terrified the entire time that one of them would be his 'Neville'."

Hermione laughed hard when she heard that. "Neville had even less luck on a broom than me, and that is saying something." They both giggled as they thought of their friend. "So, how is Ron doing otherwise?"

Ginny sighed. "Well, his classes take up a lot of his time, so he keeps busy. And with the final Quidditch match done with, he will be able to get his exams out of the way more easily. I swear, he frets more over giving them than he did taking them. He asks about you sometimes," Ginny offered.

"Yeah, right," Hermione scoffed.

"No really. He wonders how you are doing and whether you are, uh…well he asks about you," Ginny said.

"He wonders if I am dating anyone, right?"

"Are you?" Ginny asked pointedly.

"Not at present, but that doesn't mean I want to get back with Ron. We are just too different. I adore him to death, same as Harry. They are a part of me. I just don't think I can give Ron what he needs," Hermione said with a trace of sadness in her voice. She sighed and looked down to Ginny's toes in her lap. "Okay, you now have the most beautiful toes in London."

"Just London eh?" Ginny joked, as she twiddled and admired her pink digits on her feet.

"Well, yeah. Who else matters?" Hermione replied deadpan.

Laughter rang through the flat again.

After they had rinsed out the foils from their hair and put it up in towels, they sat in the kitchen to enjoy their dessert with tea. A soft breeze played through the window curtains to the side of the table.

"Hermione?" Ginny asked.

"Hmm?" she replied as she cut a forkful of her cake.

"What ever happened with Viktor?" Ginny asked.

Hermione stopped chewing and swallowed hard. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, we all knew you two were dating again when you were studying in Bulgaria. So, what happened?" Ginny prodded.

"Same thing that always happens, Gin. We broke up," Hermione hedged. She fiddled with her fork and finally set it down and picked up her cup of tea. "I had my studies, he had his Quidditch. We grew apart. It happens."

"But what happened to cause the break?"

Hermione set her cup back down without taking a drink. She concentrated on her napkin, folding it into a fan and then letting it pop back open from its accordion shape. "Why do you want to know so badly?"

"Because, up until that point, you were this brilliant ball of energy. Your mind raced ahead of everyone else's to see the final conclusion before anyone even knew there was an issue. You laughed more; talked more…you were just more before that time in Bulgaria. We all thought you two would announce your engagement at any time, and then the owl came, saying you were on your way to Egypt," Ginny stated in a rush.

"I just figured it was a break from each other and I knew how important your education was to you. But, when you came back for Chelsea's 4th birthday, you were here and gone so fast, Harry and Ron were shocked. Even though I was focused on my baby's special day, I still saw how you didn't laugh as much. You barely smiled, except when Chelsea would talk to you, and you were so thin, a stiff breeze would've blown you over. They didn't see those things. But I did. And then I knew. I knew it was when you were with Victor that something happened to change you. I just would like to know what," Ginny finished softly, tears building in her eyes.

Hermione fought back her own tears as she took a deep breath.

"You really want to know what happened?" Hermione said quietly.

"Yes, please tell me. Let me help if I can," Ginny said, reaching across to take Hermione's hand.

"Well, I don't know about helping me, but I will tell you," Hermione said, squeezing Ginny's hand, a lone tear escaping down her cheek.

"Viktor and I met again while I was studying at the Bulgarian Conservatory. He was surprised to see me again, pleasantly I like to think," Hermione stopped and took a sip of her tea. She continued, "We only saw each other sporadically, as he was busy with Quidditch and I was engrossed in my studies. Once Quidditch season was over, he sought me out at the Conservatory. His family had been major contributors for many generations and he knew most of the faculty. We started to spend more and more free time together, and I will be honest with you, I was starting to fall in love with him."

Ginny gasped. "Did he feel the same?"

"I thought so at the time. Our worlds were so different, still are, really. His family is very prominent, much like the Malfoys, only without the Death Eater stigma attached. But, they all made me feel so welcome and at home. We would dine with his parents occasionally, and they were a very formal, but loving family. My studies were flying along and so were we." At this point, Hermione blushed. "We became intimate and it was beautiful, everything I had hoped it would be. He was required to travel for the team, promotional stuff. I missed him so while he was gone, but when he returned, it was like falling all over again," Hermione said in a rush, wiping a tear from her cheek.

"So why in heaven's name did you two break it off?" Ginny said, wiping her own tears from her face.

"Well, the promotional trips took up a lot of his free time in the off season. And then the new season was to start soon, so he began practicing more and more. He wasn't around and I missed him so much. But, I knew that this was the life he led when we started seeing each other again. I couldn't blame him, and I still don't, not really. Then I missed," Hermione took a deep breath, "I missed my monthly."

Ginny's eyes widened. Hermione looked up at Ginny to see the realization on her face.

"You were pregnant?" she asked.

"Yup."

"And what did Viktor say?" Ginny asked cautiously.

"He was happy, at first. I was only like 6 weeks along, so I was getting terrible sick. I had a hard time keeping up with my studies, because I spent quite a few morning lectures in the ladies room. I also was totally put off by the idea of sex at that point. Everything seemed to set off my stomach and I was sick any time Viktor would make an attempt to be intimate. I lost quite a bit of weight, and didn't get much sleep, as I was trying to make up for missing so many lectures and panel discussions by doing more research, writing more essays," Hermione said with a hitch in her voice. "He had a match in France the day I lost the baby." Tears flowed down her face freely.

"Oh sweet Merlin, Mione. Why didn't you come home?" Ginny pleaded.

Hermione stood up and grabbed the box of tissues from the box by the fridge. She walked back to the table and sat down. She blew her nose gently and said, "What for, Ginny? The baby was gone, Viktor wasn't there when I needed him most, and I honestly just wanted to die."

"But, Mione, we would have taken care of you. You know that," Ginny said.

"Yes, I do know that. Now. At that point in my life, Gin, all I wanted was to do it on my own. I wanted to succeed or fail, on my own. It was foolish and childish, but it was my mindset at the time. When Viktor returned from his match, I was still in the infirmary at the Conservatory. He came in and looked at me with such," Hermione's forehead wrinkled, "such, _pity_ and _disgust_ in his eyes. It occurred to me that night, for those two emotions to be present, he had to have been feeling quite differently than I had for some time. I came to find out that he had been having an affair with one of the promotional staff members during the off season; even before I found out I was pregnant. I was devastated. I wanted to die more than anything, but I didn't. I lived through it, and I continued on with my studies and moved on. There was no big bang to our break up. More like a whimper really," Hermione said, with a bad taste in her mouth. She took another sip of her tea.

Looking up at Ginny, Hermione saw not pity, not disgust, but deep sorrow and compassion from her best friend. Hermione's eyes filled again and she dabbed at them with her tissues.

"So, that is the story of what happened in Bulgaria. The End," Hermione finished.

"And now?" Ginny inquired.

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"What are you doing about it now?" Ginny said.

Hermione thought on this. 'What am I doing about it now,' she said to herself. She shrugged.

"Just as I thought. You are still blaming yourself for it, aren't you?"

Hermione's eyes flashed. "Blaming myself for what, Gin? That he cheated on me? No, I know for a fact that it was all his, and partly that little tart he was seeing, fault. I did nothing to deserve that and I don't feel responsible for it one iota. The only things I will take blame for are letting my education falter like it did, and-, and-," Hermione sobbed. She covered her face with her hands.

Ginny got up and rushed over to Hermione to gather her in her arms. Hermione wrapped herself around Ginny's belly as best she could, and cried. She had never really let herself mourn her child. It would make it too real for her. She could cope if she just buried the hurt and the pain of that one loss deep in her heart. She cried her very heart out that afternoon. Ginny held her, with her own tears falling off her chin onto the towel covering Hermione's hair. She whispered and shushed her just like her mother did when she was a little girl and would come in the house with her heart broken by her brother's little antics.

Hermione was now to the point of sniffling and deep breathing, trying to regain control once more.

Ginny felt her take a deep breath and muttered, "Men are such gits sometimes, eh?"

Hermione laughed and squeezed Ginny's around her back. At that moment, the baby kicked and Hermione felt it on her cheek. She pulled back quickly and looked at Ginny's face.

"I am so sorry, Ginny. I didn't hurt you, did I?" Hermione asked with fear in her voice.

"Nah. He does that a lot now. Want to feel him?" She said smiling.

"Can I?"

"Sure, just place your hand where he kicked last. He usually goes for a few minutes and then moves," Ginny said with pride.

Hermione timidly placed her hand on Ginny's round belly and waited for another little kick. This time she felt it and laughed lightly, a single tear coming free. "Boy, he has a right tough little leg there, eh?"

"That isn't the half of it. He likes to get me right under my ribcage sometimes. I almost lose my breath when he does that," Ginny said, as she rubbed her hand over her distended stomach.

"Does it hurt much?" Hermione asked.

"No, at least not until the last two months. By that time, he will be so big, that any stretch he does will feel like my entire insides are trying to get out," she chuckled.

"I missed so much when you were pregnant with Chelsea. I am so sorry I wasn't there for you," Hermione said with a trace of regret in her voice.

"Well, you did get to see her birth, so that was important."

"I will never forget Harry's face when you called him everything but a man in the birthing room," Hermione laughed.

"Well, I was quite peeved with my darling husband at that point. Labor is just what they say it is, work," Ginny said with a trace of heat.

Hermione took her hand off of Ginny's belly, and stood up. "You are the most amazing wife, mother, and best friend I know. I am so thankful that you have Harry to love you. You are the best for each other and that is what you both deserve." She enveloped Ginny in a long hug.

Ginny started crying again and when Hermione pulled away, Ginny fluttered her hands in front of her. "Oh I need more tissue." She wiped her eyes and nose. "I am so glad we still have facials to do. Harry wouldn't understand-" she began.

"Wouldn't understand what, babe?" Harry asked as he and Ron, with Chelsea in tow, stood in the living room. They had just Apparated in without a sound.

"Aunt Mione!" Chelsea cried as she raced into the kitchen. She leapt into Hermione's arms and flung her arms around her neck. "I have a new secret for you," she whispered in Hermione's ear.

"Really? Well, let's just wait until we are alone, okay?" Hermione whispered back. She hugged Chelsea tight and looked at Ginny rubbing her daughter's back. 'Thank you,' she mouthed to her.

'Your welcome,' Ginny mouthed back. She blew her nose loudly and started out of the kitchen just as Ron complained, "Mione, you don't have a TV?"

O

O

O

A/N: Ok, I need a tissue now.

Please just read and review.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Not mine. All JKR's.

Oliver walked into the stadium for practice on Tuesday morning in two moods at once. He was excited for his appointment with Hermione this afternoon. He was anxious to hear what she had discovered so far and what the next step in the plan would be. Being completely honest with himself, he was anxious to just see her again. The other emotion fighting in his system was a sense of intense frustration, stemming from the conversation he had with the coach last week.

* * *

_Flashback_

_Oliver knocked on the coach's door after leaving Fred and George's. A gruff 'Enter' was heard and Oliver walked into the office._

"_Close the door, Wood and take a seat," Coach McManus barked._

_Oliver closed the door quietly and sat in the only chair unoccupied by papers and diagrams._

_Coach McManus looked over his glasses at Oliver. In front of him was the best Keeper he had ever coached. Natural talent, good health, willingness to put in the hours. That was what made a good player in Quidditch; that was what made a captain. Sometimes, he really hated his job._

"_See the game between the Wasps and the Harpies?" McManus said forcefully._

'_Didn't the guy know how to talk other than yelling?' Oliver wondered. "Yes, sir. Recognized some plays that we implemented last season, but other than that, no new tactics that are a threat to us."_

"_Hmm, yes. Caught that too. Rather surprised to see that Seeker lose the Snitch while he was right on top of it, eh?" Coach said in his loud manner._

"_Seemed like his balance was off on his broom tail to me," Oliver commented._

"_Poor maintenance obviously," Coach remarked. "Our brooms are all satisfactory, I take it?"_

"_Yes, sir. I made sure to inspect each one before the very next practice."_

"_Hmm, yes, good. Knew you would, o'course, but just asking." The coach rubbed his chin._

"_Here's the thing, Wood. Management has their eye on a new Keeper for the reserve team. Hot shot out of Hogwarts. When Hughes broke his back at that last practice, he decided he was done. Too many injuries to recover fully anymore, so he said."_

"_I was aware of his desire to return to teaching, sir. He wanted to know how I felt about it," Oliver replied._

"_And?"_

"_I told him that my life is centered on Quidditch. I can't make the decision to leave it for someone else, just like I would expect it not to be made for me. You take the choice away; you take the ability to choose for yourself. Regret is a lonely teammate on the pitch, sir," Oliver said with a bit of sorrow, looking at his hands. He had known good players over the years that were traded when Management had decided they outlived their usefulness; 'business, bah.'_

_His eyes came back up and caught his coach observing him keenly._

"_Good point. Yes, well, with Hughes out, and the new reserve on standby, awaiting the final touches on his contract, your safety is paramount. This new guy will take a while to groom to our playing style. When we play Ireland next week, I don't want any funny business, you got me?" Coach growled. "No death-defying flips and saves and what-not!"_

"_Sir?"_

"_I know your abilities, Wood. You are an amazing player, and an excellent captain and leader. But, I don't want you to end up on a stretcher, and I sure as bloody hell don't want the team to suffer because you are injured. Without a reserve, we would be as good as grounded. Ireland is a take-no-prisoners team. We lose our line of defense on the hoops, and they will exploit it for all it is worth," McManus said with force._

_Oliver tried to digest this. 'They want me to play it safe? How can I not give it 150 percent, when that is all I know how to do?'_

"_We clear, Wood?" Coach barked again._

"_Uh, sir. I am not sure I understand you. You want me, to play it soft?" Oliver asked incredulously._

"_Absolutely NOT! I just don't want you to take un-necessary chances. If it entails you flying upside down or moving in a manner not meant for the human body, then don't do it!"_

"_Sir-"_

"_Wood, that is it. End of discussion. Play with feeling, but no tricks and don't take chances."_

_End Flashback

* * *

_

Practice the next day was one of the hardest and most difficult of Oliver's life. He was guarding the far left hoop when Ted, a Chaser, pulled a classic fake out move and shot at the far right hoop. Oliver executed a perfect backwards flip and roll and stopped the shot. Coach McManus called for a three minute break and proceeded to give Oliver an earful in front of the team. Oliver flew back up dejectedly after the break and played with only the barest minimum of effort. It was not nearly enough to keep the team from scoring, but it appeased the coach. Oliver had dreaded each and every practice since.

He wasn't used to this. He lived for Quidditch. For as long as he could remember, it had been his dream, his desire, and his life. All he was as a person was wrapped up in the singular most exhilarating profession known to wizard-kind. 'Well, that is not entirely true,' he thought begrudgingly. He adored his family. His father had passed away a few months after he had been moved up to the active team. Up to that point, he almost never missed a match. Oliver thought of him often, especially when he was working on his own with a spelled Quaffle. He could hear his father encouraging him when he made an amazing save. But when he had passed away, Oliver's mother started coming to them. She was one of his most avid fans and could get quite irate when he would get fouled and the referee was distracted. He recalled one time that she had reprimanded Coach McManus quite loudly for his shoddy treatment of the team after a heart-wrenching loss, in full view of the fans and officials. Coach had made sure to keep his rants confined to the locker room after that. He smiled. His mum was the greatest.

His sister was not anything to shake a stick at either. She was probably the most efficient business woman he knew. Her family always came first, but her career was a close second. His sister could take an almost bankrupt company and have it turning a profit in 3 months. She operated in the financial circles in the wizarding community and was a star. He was the famous athlete, but she could make a mountain of galleons out of a molehill of sickles. In his mind, she was the talented one. Their unflagging support of him and his chosen career had kept him up through the lean times and cheered him more when things were grand. Until this moment, he never fully realized what that meant to him. He was certain that wherever his road led, his family would be there, inspiring him fully.

Oliver stopped outside his team's locker room. He wouldn't go in there with this heaviness hanging over him. He would give as much as was asked, and if they wanted more, he would give it. This was his job, his life. He had never felt as unhappy as he did at this moment. He gave himself a mental shakedown, put on his game face, and opened the door.

The team walked out on the field moments later, ready for a stimulating practice. Coach McManus was out on the field already, speaking to a young man dressed in the Puddlemere blue practice robes. "Good day, team. This here is Michael Cook, our new Reserve Keeper. He will be guarding the other set of goals to get familiar with our style of play, in the event that our esteemed Captain decides to get himself injured."

"Why does Coach always blame us when the other team manages to swing a bludger our way?" Chaser Ted whispered to Oliver.

Oliver gave Ted a look and just shrugged.

"Got something to add, Hereford?" Coach roared.

"No, sir. I fully intended on schooling the pup properly sir."

"Hmm, well, GOOD! Now get up there and let's see your best!" Coach bellowed.

He looked pointedly at Oliver and gave him the nod. This meant that Oliver was supposed to play it soft again today. Oliver broke the eye contact and flew up to his end of the pitch. The chasers, seeker, and beaters were all in position as the coach let loose the trunk. The bludgers took off directly for the new Keeper. Beater O'Shaunessy flew directly in the path and knocked it cleanly to his mirror, Carson McBride. They were a great set of beaters, Oliver thought to himself. They could anticipate each other down to a second. The Chasers weren't anything to be ashamed of either. Ted Hereford could be a real git sometimes, but he knew his sport. The other two Chasers were last season trades from the Wasps and the Cannons. Isaac Andrews could play, but his sense of teammate interaction was a bit lacking; didn't like to pass the Quaffle. He would come along though. Liam Grey on the other hand, was a perfect Chaser. Focused, passionate, and a great team supporter. He would pass you the Quaffle if you had the better shot; that was the way he played. He and Andrews got along great on the street. Put them on a pitch though, and you had instant animosity. Of course, that left the exotically beautiful, but no-nonsense, Seeker, Simone Dubois. Simone was light, fast, and could fake out the best with her Wronski Feint. That made up the great Puddlemere United team this season, and it was looking like a new up-and-comer would be ready to fill his shoes when he retired.

Or maybe not.

Oliver was so caught up in his thoughts; he hadn't noticed the team working Mr. Cook hard. Coach was checking over the roster for the Ireland game on Friday and didn't notice. Oliver flew over to Ted and casually asked, "What are you doing to the poor boy?"

"Just making him feel welcome. You know how accommodating we can be," Ted grinned at Oliver.

Oliver's blood started to boil. "GET BACK IN FORMATION NOW!" he howled.

Coach looked up to see his team in shambles, no one was working the new kid, and no one was watching the opposite side of the pitch.

"_WOOD!"_

Oliver looked down.

"Get down here, NOW!" Coach roared again. "You other lackeys-20 laps around the pitch."

Oliver flew down to the Coach and slung his broom over his shoulder.

"I trust you to handle the team, Wood. Please tell me you have it under control? Because that is NOT, WHAT, IT, LOOKS, LIKE!" Coach bellowed.

"Sir, they were just-"Oliver started.

"I don't care what they were just, I want you all to start that new three-prong offense move we worked out the other day. Give the kids some pointers, we will play ½ pitch today," Coach finished.

"Yes, _sir_," Oliver conceded and flew up to opposite end of the pitch.

Michael Cook was sitting on his broom, surveying the other players. He had a confident air about him, and a blaze in his eyes to prove himself. He observed Oliver flying up to his position and nodded once. Oliver took a place on the left beside Cook. Looking out at the field, Oliver saw the Chasers all in a huddle, wondering what they were plotting. It could be anything, knowing them.

"So, great day to be flying, eh?" Cook asked tentatively.

"Yes, any day is a great day to be in the air," Oliver said absently.

Cook watched the team prepare for an assault and braced himself at his post.

"Watch Hereford, he will more than likely pull a fake to the left and shoot right," Oliver mumbled and flew upwards to observe.

Cook looked at Oliver real quick and then refocused on the attack. Hereford passed to Andrews, who dropped the Quaffle down to Grey. Grey then swooped up under Hereford and passed behind the back as he came around. Cook's eyes followed the Quaffle. Hereford caught it and burst forward in a shot. He worked the broom like it was a toy, and as Oliver predicted, he was aiming for the left hoop. At the last second, Hereford veered right, and took his shot like a bullet. Cook seen this and was able to block the shot, if only by his fingertips.

"Excellent! YES! That is good, keep that up," Coach bellowed from below.

Oliver nodded to Cook, who nodded back. The practice commenced.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Not mine. JKR's world, I just live in it. Enjoy.

Near the end of the practice, the coach called the team down to the grass.

"Excellent practice, folks. I like where your heads are at. Let's keep it up and Ireland won't stand a chance. Now, hit the showers," McManus said loudly. "Wood, Cook; stay."

Oliver sighed inside. 'Here it comes,' he thought.

"Now, that was some good keeping I saw up there," McManus growled. "Cook, you could stand to work on your speed a bit, but it will come to ya, boy, mark my words. And Wood, keep playing that way, and we will be back on track sooner than you think. Good job coaching Cook today; he will benefit from it in a big way. Now, off with you two."

Michael nodded at both men and strode off to the locker rooms, confidence in each step.

Oliver watched him go and then turned to the coach. "Sir, a word please."

"What's on your mind, Wood?" McManus asked gruffly as he corralled the errant equipment into the trunk with his wand.

"Uh, sir. Do you think that Cook will be ready when the time comes?" Oliver asked, rubbing his moist forehead with the back of his hand. Man, did he need a shower.

"Sure, he will. Our scout was dead on with that boy. Has the skill and innate abilities necessary to do the job. And he loves it," McManus said with a small bit of admiration. "You can see it in the way he flies. His every movement is spare, with no waste of energy. Reminds me of another young buck I met once," he said, looking pointedly at Oliver.

"Right. Look, sir. He won't be ready if he doesn't practice with the team more. The reserve team is great, but they all need to spend more time working with the front squad if they expect to be able to keep up in the major matches," Oliver said with some heat.

"Really? You think so, do you? Well, I happen to agree with you, so from now on, the reserve squad will be practicing with us full time," McManus said with a touch of respect. "We need for them to be ready to come in at a moment's notice, without dropping the ball, literally speaking."

Oliver was a bit surprised that his idea had met with no resistance. Usually, the coach would shoot them down, hem and haw over it for a week, then implement it in his own way.

"Okay sir. Sounds good," Oliver said offhand. "Excused, sir?"

"Yeah, get out of here," McManus grumbled as he checked the pitch for leftover water bottles and the like.

"Thank you sir," Oliver said, as he turned to go to the locker rooms.

McManus watched Oliver walking and shook his head. 'That is not a happy man,' he thought to himself.

Oliver walked into the locker room and heard the ruckus of his teammates harassing Cook. He rolled his eyes and just made his way over to where his things were. He pulled off his gear and stowed it in the locker, and flopped down on his bench. 'Why does this feel so wrong?' he asked himself. 'Why do I feel like I am on my way out and this new guy is on his way in?'

Oliver shook his head to clear it and proceeded to take his uniform off. He pulled the heavy top over his head and tossed it to the laundry bin by the doorway. He had a couple new bruises on his shoulders from trying to block the Quaffle without doing his standard tuck and roll, causing him to slam into the hoop. He rubbed his left shoulder and tried to stretch the strained muscle. A hot shower would feel so good. He removed the rest of his clothing and grabbed a towel around his waist. Most of the team was on their way out of the showers when he walked into the large tiled cubicle.

"Good practice, guys," he said encouragingly. "We are going to knock Ireland all the way back to their precious Blarney Stone." His teammates hooted and hollered, feeling the adrenaline pump through their veins at Oliver's words. Oliver smiled and proceeded to douse himself in the steamy hot water that his aching body so desperately needed.

Oliver had just put his boxers on, preparing to get his slacks from the locker when he heard the door to the locker room creak.

"Excuse me, Mr. Wood, you have a visitor waiting on the pitch," the equipment manager called out from the doorway.

Oliver looked up and nodded. "Tell her I will be a few moments, please."

The equipment manager waved 'okay' and retreated.

Oliver felt the excitement prickle his skin and flush his face. Hermione was waiting for him outside. He could hardly get dressed fast enough.

Hermione sat on the player's bench and looked around at the green grass and gravity defying stands surrounding it. The sun was shining; it was a nice summer's day. The blue sky above almost reminded her of the ceiling of the Great Hall at Hogwarts. She looked up as she closed her eyes to the sun. She could feel the vibes deep down through the earth that this was a place of sweat, blood, love, and hate, all rolled into one. It was almost like a cathedral now, with none of the daytime street noises intruding and a sense of peace fell over her. She took a deep breath and the scent of grass filled her nose. She had never experienced this when she was at Hogwarts, although that could be excused, she supposed. So many things going on, so much drama all the time from the ever present threat of Voldemort. But, here, now, she felt the calm flow over her.

Oliver watched Hermione from the darkness of the tunnel and was entranced. Her hair was lifting slightly when a small breeze flowed through the pitch. The sun shining down on her was causing her hair to glow like a beacon from the shore to a drowning man. Her eyes had closed and she lifted her face to the warmth the sun provided, a small smile on her pale pink lips. Her shoulders lifted as she took a deep breath and let it out. Hermione's hands were on the bench on either side of her and her legs were crossed demurely at the ankle. She was leaning back slightly, but not stiffly. Her slender body was encased in a light blue sleeveless tank and blue jeans. A pale yellow sweater lay next to her on the bench. Hermione was just breathing and Oliver felt like he was being called to her. Sitting there like that, she pulled at him as nothing ever had before in his life. He felt his senses heighten and his body respond to her presence. The excitement he had felt before was nothing compared to this and he was a bit shocked. He had never responded to anyone this way, at least not anyone he had never even kissed. 'Her lips are just asking for it,' he thought as she parted said lips and let out a deep and contented sigh.

Oliver reined in his errant thoughts and took control of himself. 'Down, boy. She is doing research for you; not sitting there, waiting for your imagination to run off with her,' he scolded himself.

Oliver shook his head and began walking out to the benches. His shoes crunched on some gravel and Hermione shot up from the bench, and turned towards him with her hand reaching in her pocket.

Oliver held his hand up and said, "Hi. Yeah, just me. Don't hex me, okay?" He smiled down at her as she removed her hand from her pocket.

"You did give me a bit of a start," she said, slightly flustered that her peace had been disturbed.

"Well, for that, I apologize. Enjoying the sun, eh?" He asked with a slight smirk.

Hermione's eyes narrowed a bit as she looked up at him. 'Lord, but he was a tall one,' she thought. "Yes, it is a beautiful day today. This stadium is quite the place," she admired.

"Yes, it is. I love being here when no one else is around. The peace that flows at that time is quite magical," he said with a trace of humor.

"Oh, ha ha," she laughed. Hermione's hands smoothed down her top and she tucked them in her front pockets.

"Good practice today?" She inquired.

Oliver shrugged. "Same as the others, grueling, painful, with a bit of flying mixed in between." He went on to explain that they needed to train their new reserve keeper and all that entailed.

Hermione looked at him while he talked. His eyes were warm and bright as he explained and she seen that he had just got out of the showers by his damp hair and spiky eyelashes. The smell of soap and the forest met her nose and she breathed deeply. 'Such a nice smell really,' she thought to herself. Her face flushed as she realized this thought and she looked around at her sweater on the bench.

Oliver watched her from the corner of his vision as he was demonstrating with his hands the patterns they flew in one of the formations. Her nose expanded a bit and so did her chest as she breathed in deeply. A slight pink tinted her cheeks as she turned to look at the bench. 'Aha, so she is not completely oblivious either then,' he thought smugly. He had made certain to put on some aftershave before he came out and was pleased that she noticed.

Hermione looked back at him after the flush had receded and smiled. "Want to grab a drink and go over what I have so far?" she asked. She needed to return this appointment to its original track.

"Sure, any place particular in mind?" Oliver said.

"Your choice," she called over her shoulder as she grabbed her sweater and the tote she had brought that carried all her notes and things.

Oliver waited until she was ready and then held out his arm. "Care for a little Side-long Apparition, lass?" his accent in full effect.

Hermione just nodded and placed her hand on his arm with gently. A quiet pop was heard and then was restored in the cathedral of the Puddlemere Quidditch pitch.

* * *

A/N: Boy, I am really sorry! I had to expand that over two chapters. And I am still not to the actual discussion of the mystery book yet. Never thought I would have all these chapters. LOL Ah well, I am enjoying writing the story as much as I hope you all are enjoying reading it. Now, a shout out to my friendly reviewers. Oh yeah, by the way, if you couldn't tell, I am an American. HA HA

Lazyllama: it is cute now, but wait. It is almost puppy like later on! LOL

Lioness96: I agree completely. I must have more OLIVER:)

Atomic Elf: What can I say to my most faithful reviewer? You have helped me so much with your advice and I want to thank you for all you write in your reviews. I adore the twins, as I have said before. They are much needed comic relief in my little soap opera. I am blushing from your praise, as I always thought my writing to be to wordy. Thank you for your support and I look forward to your great reviews.

Vagrantben: I just started writing this story on Wednesday. Can you believe it? Friday evening and it has almost a 1000 reads? I am in awe of people reading my story and I am thankful to your thoughts. Like I said, I adore the twins.

Mandy g: I agree. I think that a grown up version of HP characters is so different from what we know from our illustrious muse, Ms. Rowling. I love Hr/O fics.

YoursAlways: I know what you mean about Oliver and slash, as stated on your profile. I don't have anything against it either, but some characters are dear to my heart and I just would be heartbroken if that was to happen. I also realized that even tho Hermione is a main character, there isn't much back story on her. I find this to be an open canvas for my imagination and I am grateful that you all are giving your time to read it.

Kari-Hermione and Gaby B: here is a double shot of O/Hr! Take it and check back in the morning. I will have probably stayed up another nite to crank out some more! LOL

Thank you all again. Please review.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: If you recognize it, it isn't mine. Thanks to JKR for all her hard work!

* * *

A pop echoed through the quiet room and two figures opened their eyes at the same time to focus on the far wall of windows that looked out to a picturesque landscape lit by bright sunshine. 

"Ugh, I get so disoriented when I do that," Oliver grumbled.

Hermione just nodded, her hand still grasping Oliver's strong forearm. He looked down at her and smiled. She let out a small 'oh' and released him.

Oliver chuckled as he moved to a small table to empty his pockets in the small dish sitting there.

"Umm, Oliver, where are we?" Hermione asked, her wide eyes taking in the fireplace and the surrounding furniture. A couch and chair were situated in a way to be able to absorb the warmth that a fire would provide. The wall of windows she had observed upon arriving showed the wonderful view of a thriving garden at the back of a patio, with a small pond, and then a forest slightly beyond. She was smiling as she turned to Oliver, who observed her smile with an inner sigh of relief.

"My place," he said efficiently. Oliver walked through an archway and turned right. Hermione was going to follow him to ask why there were there, when he popped his head through the opening over the breakfast bar.

Hermione paled.

"Why are we here?" Hermione asked quickly, before he could disappear again.

"Would you like something to drink or eat?" he asked, with a slight grin.

"Oliver," she said warningly.

Oliver looked down at the kitchen counter at his hands. "You said 'my choice'," he answered. "So, I chose here."

"But-"Hermione started.

"Really, I just didn't feel like sitting in a pub, discussing something like this over the sounds of a couple tee-totalers and the like," he said as he ran his hand through his short hair.

"Oh," Hermione settled slightly. She supposed he did have a point. Trying to talk about the mystery surrounding his book in front of strangers was not a good idea, she thought, remembering back to her first year at Hogwarts and Hagrid's affinity to associate with suspicious characters at the Hogshead over a few pints.

"Okay then?" Oliver said hesitantly.

"Yes, this is better. You were right, it is not something to discuss in public," she agreed.

Oliver grinned widely as he stood up straight and asked again, "So, food or drink?"

"Er, just a butterbeer if you have some, please," she replied.

"Two butterbeers coming up. You can sit down, you know. The furniture doesn't bite," he said with a smile, "Unless provoked, that is."

Hermione nodded, still in a slight state of shock. 'This is his house,' she fretted to herself, 'his domain.' She walked over to the couch, eyeing it suspiciously. She decided on the chair instead. Laying her tote at her feet, she sat down gently on the chair and crossed her legs at the ankle.

Oliver walked back into the living room with two bottles of butterbeer in one hand and a small tray of fresh vegetables and cheese. He handed Hermione the two bottles and took out his wand. After Oliver had conjured a low coffee table, he placed the tray down and retrieved one of the bottles from her. Hermione watched as he flopped down on the couch and tipped his head back to take a long pull on his butterbeer. Oliver, resting his head on the back of the couch, closed his eyes and released a deep breath. His entire aura suggested relaxation, while Hermione's was a study in how far a rubber band could be stretched before it broke. She primly took a drink of her butterbeer and looked around. The room was quite smallish, but comfortable. Not many knickknacks and clutter, she observed. Clean lines and spare decorating appeared to be his taste, as her eyes made their way around the room and fell back to Oliver, who was watching her with some amusement. She blushed.

"Like I said, I'm not much of a decorator," as he sat up straight and set his bottle on the table. "So, what do you have for me?"

"Um, well, let me get out my notes," Hermione said as she placed her bottle on the table, after she had conjured a coaster to put under it. Oliver chuckled and she blushed again; as she reached down for her tote, Oliver moved the bottles and the tray to the opposite side of the table. Hermione pulledthree folders from her tote and placed them on her lap. The tote was settled on the floor once more and she straightened her shoulders.

Oliver thought, 'Ah, the professor is in,' and smiled as Hermione laid the three folders out on the table, while saying, "Each of these folders holds information I have gathered in the last week. The green folder contains all correspondence from sources in the business: scholars, professors from some of the schools I have studied at, and the best in my field of ancient languages and texts. The yellow folder in the middle contains history of those that have held the book, from supposed possessors of said item to actual documented cases of ownership. The blue folder has mostly miscellaneous items in it, dealing with myths and legends," she finished.

"Wow."

"Well, this is all I have been able to find so far. I am certain there is plenty for me to go through yet, as I have only looked in the obvious texts for references to the book," she said quickly.

"No, no. This is amazing. And you got all of this in only a week?" Oliver asked incredulously, as he looked inside the yellow folder containing the ownership information. It was almost an inch thick.

"Well, I did take a day off on Sunday," she said with a smile.

Oliver looked at her to see if she was joking, but saw only sincerity in her gaze.

"Um, okay. So, where does all this lead us then?" he asked, not wanting to read the three inch blue folder she said dealt with the myths and legends.

"Well, it could lead anywhere, if we follow the myths and legends portion. But, in my opinion, the only true leads we have are in Bulgaria. One, with the bookstore where you purchased the book. Two, all the correspondence I have received back is referencing a former professor at the Bulgarian Conservatory," Hermione finished quietly.

"Former?" Oliver asked.

"Well, he is still tenured there, but he is now the Dean of the antiquities department. He is regarded as the foremost expert on this subject and will be the best resource, at least for now," she said.

"Have you contacted him?"

"No, I was waiting until we talked, as I wanted to be sure of your intentions; that is, to go through with this," Hermione said, as she reached over to grab her butterbeer.

"Why wouldn't I? It sounds fascinating, exciting, and even a bit mysterious," Oliver said as he waggled his eyebrows at Hermione.

Hermione grimaced. She may have to let the old proverbial cat out of the bag and she wasn't sure if she wanted to. 'You don't have to tell him anything, you know. Ginny knew about you and Viktor dating, it is safe to assume that Oliver would know of Viktor, at least through his profession,' she reminded herself. 'And, you may not _have_ to tell him at all.' Hermione clung to that thought.

"Well, okay, I will send out a letter first thing tomorrow then," she said.

"Great! So, anything else I should know about?" Oliver asked, almost if he could read Hermione thoughts.

"Er, no, I don't think so," she answered, slightly flustered. "Umm, w-will you be wanting copies of these items?" indicating the folders.

"Not right now, I don't think. Eventually, I will want the succinct version of all of the research in a nice and tidy report, but for now, you can keep track of these things," Oliver joked.

"Absolutely. Will you want that coordinated by date or subject matter?" Hermione asked seriously.

"I was joking, Hermione," Oliver said with a deep chuckle. "Lighten up."

"Uh, yeah right," Hermione said, as a deep flush crept up her cheeks and she took another drink of her butterbeer.

Oliver sobered up quickly. "I'm sorry, lass. That was a wee bit nasty on my part. I didn't mean to imply that you were-"

"I understand, Oliver, really. I know my reputation from school and I also know that my chosen profession hasn't really changed it much," she said with her signature grace. She looked down at her hands, slightly rolling the bottle between the two.

"Right, well. What shall we do now?" Oliver asked. "Would you like a tour of the house?"

"Uh, well, I should really be-"Hermione began.

"Oh, c'mon. It won't kill you and then we could continue to talk some more about this afterwards," Oliver said, taking her bottle from her with one hand and pulling her up with the other.

"Uh, well, okay," she said tentatively, as Oliver set her bottle back down on her coaster.

"Okay, well this obviously is the living room," as he led her towards the archway. Hermione could feel his large hand wrapped around her smaller one and the rush of heat that raced up her arm. The calluses from riding a broom for so many years were a tad rough, but the warmth was quite pleasant.

"And this is the kitchen," Oliver stated as he flipped on a small light. Electricity hummed as the tidy galley-shaped kitchen was lit from above. A small table in the far corner had 3 chairs set around it. Deep honey colored cabinets contrasted the white tiled countertop and gave warmth to the otherwise very stark room. The stone floor was covered by a throw rug of indeterminate origin.

"My sister picked that out," Oliver said with pride. "She knows as much about decorating as I do," he said, with obvious humor.

Hermione smiled as he turned them and led her into the hallway, still holding her by the hand.

"That there is the front door, which hardly ever gets used," Oliver stated, indicating a large wooden door. The wood was so dark it was almost black.

"This here is the bath, nothing spectacular there," he said as Hermione looked in and seen a very clean and bare bathroom with a shower and sink and toilet in the corner.

Oliver was pulling her towards two other doors at the end of the hallway. He cracked open one door and said with a slight huskiness, "just a bedroom here." Hermione caught a quick glimpse of an almost bare room containing a large bed with a dark blue comforter and a dresser before he closed the door.

They stopped outside the last door and Oliver tugged her a bit closer. His eyes looked deep into hers as he whispered, "now, for the piece de resistance." Hermione's eyes widened and her pulse quickened as he turned the handle. The door opened quietly and the light was the first thing Hermione noticed. Several windows similar to those in the living room graced the back wall of the room. Sunlight poured in and warmed the air in the room and as her eyes adjusted, she was able to focus on the other areas of the room.

"You have a library!" she exclaimed with joy, walking in.

"Well, it is really just a spare room, but yeah, I decided to use it for keeping some of my more treasured items in. A lot of my things are still at my parent's place in Scotland," Oliver said.

"Really? You don't keep your stuff here?" Hermione asked, walking slowly over to a wall that contained mostly Quidditch memorabilia. There were older brooms and uniforms kept in a glass enclosure off to one side, while posters and photographs were scattered along the rest of the wall.

"No, I have way too much to house in this small room," Oliver said as he entered behind her.

Hermione nodded as she walked along and came across a framed photo showing the Gryffindor Quidditch team. She leaned in to get a better look. They were all sitting on the shoulders of their housemates, with a grinning and teary-eyed Oliver in the center of the floating mob next to Harry. His photo image would reach up and wipe his eyes every now and again, while everyone below was cheering. Hermione smiled widely. She looked over her shoulder at Oliver, who realized what frame she was looking at and blushed.

"That was a very good day," he said gruffly as he went over to one of the bookcases lining the other wall. "Thank goodness for Colin Creevey, or I wouldn't have that particular picture."

Hermione looked back at the photograph and smiled. It was a good day. It felt good to remind herself every once in a while that not all the time spent at Hogwarts was trials and tribulations.

She turned around and looked at the side of the room where Oliver was standing, looking in a book. The entire wall was like covered with several large bookcases. They reached all the way to the ceiling and were filled with Hermione's favorite things. She walked over and began to peruse the titles. Hermione noticed that although some were about Quidditch and strategies and the like, most were not. There were classics like _Hamlet_ and _Great Expectations_. She even saw a book of Gilderoy Lockhart's, _Magical Me._ Hermione laughed out loud. Oliver had come up behind her and seen what she had been laughing about.

"He was quite the dandy, wasn't he?" Oliver said, laughing along with her.

"Well, it was a long time ago," Hermione said noncommittally.

She continued down the line of books until she came to a large wooden table that looked similar to the ones they used in the library at Hogwarts. A wooden bench was tucked underneath. She ran her fingers over the warm smoothness and sighed. Yes, many good times to remember.

Oliver had followed her and heard the sigh. "Is everything okay?" he asked softly.

Hermione turned quickly and found Oliver so close she could smell his cologne. She swayed slightly and he reached for her arms to steady her. Her hands settled on his firm upper arms. She looked up to say yes and as she did, she was captured by his eyes. Her lips parted slightly.

The deep brown of his eyes held her as firmly as his hands. She had the familiar sensation of fire filling her from deep in her soul and her heartbeat quickened. His scent flowed through her lungs and added to her racing heart. Her body shuddered involuntarily and her hands grasped his arms tighter. She couldn't pull away from his eyes.

Oliver felt the change almost immediately. She went from slightly melancholy and distracted to barely breathing as he felt her shudder then grasp more tightly on to him. When she did this, his inner maleness roared its approval. Her pupils had widened and were a bit out of focus as she stared at him. He saw the passion in her eyes and was immediately alert. His eyes flicked down to her lips, which were still parted.

Hermione's nerves were on fire and she tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth. Oliver's eyes darkened as he watched this. He was pulling her slowly closer to him, so slowly that neither of them realized it until her hands laid on his chest. His hands were splayed across her back and he leaned in slightly.

Hermione felt pulled to him, not by his hands, but by his eyes. He continued to look at her as he lowered his head. It seemed as if every nerve in her body was centered in her lips at that moment. Oliver tilted his head slightly and brushed her lips with his once. The electricity shot from there to Hermione's core and she breathed in quickly, closing her eyes.

Oliver heard this, leaned forward a bit more and pressed his lips to hers again. His eyes closed and he realized the softness of her lips may just be his undoing. He felt her hands grasp his sweater as she moved her head to the side a bit to have better access. The roar in his head was loud enough to remind him to wrap his arms around her small frame fully and hold her to his chest.

Hermione felt his arms encircle her and she slid her hands up; one to rest on the back of his head, while the other clutched his shoulder. She wasn't aware of the bruises from his practice earlier that day; of course, neither was Oliver at that moment. He felt her body come in contact with his and the response was so quick that he was left breathless. Of course, that could have been because of the kiss. Oliver eased back a bit and slid his tongue to the side of her mouth, begging entrance.

Hermione opened her mouth slightly and was instantly swept away by the heat of his mouth on hers. Oliver's hand reached up from behind her and buried in her hair as he assaulted her mouth with devastating precision. His other arm wrapped firmly around her. Time seemed to stand still as they both became lost in each other. They both pulled back at the same time with a small gasp.

Hermione's eyes were still closed as Oliver gathered her to his chest in a warm hug. Her hands went around him almost automatically and rested on his waist. She was trying to calm her speeding heart and catch her lost breath. His cologne was winding its way around her head and it was quite intoxicating. Her cheek laid near to his heart and she could feel the rapid movement from within.

'He is as affected as I am,' she thought.

Oliver's arms were wrapped around Hermione and he realized he could almost touch his own elbows with each hand. He rested his cheek on the top of her head as he thought, 'So much passion for one so tiny!' They stayed like this for a moment, each regaining their own equilibrium.

Oliver felt Hermione's breathing return to normal, much as his own had and he lifted his cheek from her head. He pulled back a bit and brought his hands up her shoulders to rest on the sides of her face. He lifted her face up to look in her eyes and saw the shyness slowly invade her eyes as she tried to bank the fire of passion he had evoked in her. Her lips were slightly swollen and a deep pink. His thumbs caressed her cheeks softly.

Hermione could see the desire for her in his eyes at that moment. The deep brown had almost completely receded; indeed they looked almost black. This blackness is what shook her from her haze as she pushed at his hips and turning, stepped a few feet away.

"Hermione?" Oliver said in a voice that sounded unused and very masculine.

Hermione crossed her arms around herself and looked down at her feet. Oliver walked over and placed his hands on her shoulders. She stiffened beneath his touch and he let his hands drop.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, I shouldn't have done that," Oliver began. "I never would take advantage of you that way, please believe me."

Hermione took another step forward and turned to face him. His hands were in his pockets and he looked deeply concerned as he shuffled his feet slightly.

'He looks like he is six years old and waiting to be punished,' she thought.

"Uh, Oliver. Look," Hermione began, and Oliver raised his head to stare directly at her. She quickly looked at his lips, which wasn't all that great an alternative. She could still feel the warmth from his kiss on her own and she reached her fingers up to rub them lightly. Realizing what she had done, she dropped her hand quickly and shook her head, as if to get her thoughts straight. "Oliver, it is fine."

"But, I still shouldn't have kissed you. It was crossing a line and I don't normally do that. I-"

Hermione cut him off and said, "Really, it is fine. I am flattered, honestly. I had never thought that _the _Oliver Wood would kiss someone like, uh, well, me. I am not exactly the sort of girl that is usually seen with your, uh, your type."

"My type?" Oliver asked with almost a growl. He was starting to get a bit miffed at her explanation.

"Yeah, well, you know. Famous, athletic, and let's be honest, handsome as sin," she said with a light airy tone.

Oliver could only stare at her as his mouth dropped open. 'She thinks I'm handsome as sin?' he thought as he blinked rapidly.

Hermione seen his mouth drop open and was quick to say, "I'm sorry. Now I have offended you." She looked at the ceiling as she wrung her hands and bit her lip again.

"Please don't do that," he said with a slight groan.

Hermione's eyes flew back to his face and seen him standing there with his eyes on her lips. Her face flushed as she asked, "Don't do what?"

Oliver walked over as her eyes widened. Her breath caught in her throat and her mouth felt instantly dry. She bit her bottom lip again and his eyes flared with desire.

"That," he whispered as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply.

A/N: So….

Was it bad? Too much? Not enough? Let me know. I am gonna work on the next few chapters and then post them together, as it will allow you all to steep in the moment. I am so bad!


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: I don't own it. If you see it, and know it, it doesn't belong to me. All hail JKR. Credit to her and her pen.

"_Please don't do that," he said with a slight groan._

_Hermione's eyes flew back to his face and seen him standing there with his eyes on her lips. Her face flushed as she asked, "Don't do what?"_

_Oliver walked over as her eyes widened. Her breath caught in her throat and her mouth felt instantly dry. She bit her bottom lip again and his eyes flared with desire._

"_That," he whispered as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply.

* * *

_

Oliver sat in one of the chairs bracketing the fireplace in the spare room/library late in the evening. The fire was giving off very little warmth and not much light. He was leaning his elbow on an arm of the chair, his chin setting on his fist.

'This is not where I imagined myself this evening,' he thought mutinously.

He had planned on having an early dinner with Hermione and perhaps take a walk out back to show her the land. It had been in his mind to invite her since that afternoon when he met her at the stadium. Her appreciation for the calm atmosphere of the empty pitch had intrigued him, as he knew she really cared little for the sport. At least she hadn't at Hogwarts. Her attentiveness to Quidditch at that point could be summed up in one person: Harry Potter.

Until today, Oliver didn't invite women to his house. After having a couple moments in his youth when women did invade his flat, he had to stop taking them back to his place. At the time, most of the women he had met wanted to secure a professional Quidditch player and the few that he had been with in a physical way were quite determined. He almost had to perform a memory charm on one particular lady. She was convinced that they were meant to be together and would show up at all hours, at all times.

Oliver winced as he remembered the time she had Apperated into the male locker room. Men diving for lockers and clothing while cries of 'bloody hell' were heard and she just flounced over and gave Oliver a big hug. He was shocked to the point of being immobile while she kissed his face and was calling him pet names. The coach had walked in, after hearing all the cussing and seen her hanging all over Oliver. His bellowing voice is what finally stopped her and woke Oliver up from his shocked stance. As he pried her off from him, his teammates were either snickering or shooting worried glances at the coach. Anti-apparition wards were put in place immediately, and Oliver took the initiative to set them about his own flat. She tried to corner him a few more times out and about, but he was firm and straight with her that there would be no 'happily ever after' for them. She got the hint eventually but it was the worst 3 months of Oliver's career that he wished he could forget. Not a chance with his teammates, as they called him some of the more choice pet names for an entire year after.

But this was different, he had thought. This was Hermione, one of the most stable women he had ever had the pleasure to know. She was not the type to go obsessive on a guy and try to plan the rest of their happy existence together. He knew that she dated Quidditch players. Well, one Quidditch player, he thought solemnly.

_FLASHBACK_

_Slightly over 3 years ago_

_Oliver was walking from the pitch with his team dejectedly. _

'_That was a very tough loss,' he said to himself. The team had been all revved up for this match against Bulgaria. Going against Viktor Krum was always exciting and it was a standard many teams compared to winning the Quidditch Cup. _

'_He is just so bloody good,' Oliver thought, 'although I know Harry would give him a run for his money.' Oliver often thought of his prized Seeker at Hogwarts. The fact that Harry had defeated Voldemort was all well in good, but in Oliver's mind, Harry was just Harry; the best Seeker ever to grace his Quidditch team._

"_Viktor!" a female voice called out loudly._

_Oliver turned to see a young and shapely brunette race up to Viktor Krum and jump into his arms. Viktor held her easily with one arm and gave her a passionate kiss right there on the pitch. The young woman wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, returning his kiss with fervor. Viktor set her down slowly, and took her hand in his. She looked down as she wrapped her other hand around his bicep. Viktor leaned down and kissed the top of her soft curly shoulder length hair as his teammates came up and thumped him affectionately on his back, then seeing the young lady, smiled and nodded to her as they made their way back to the locker rooms._

_Oliver was about to turn back when the young lady looked up to listen to Viktor say something to her. Her brown eyes twinkled and she nodded as she smiled up at him with nothing but love in her countenance._

"_I know that girl," Oliver said so softly, no one but his teammate Carson McBride heard him._

_Carson looked back and hmpfed. "Really, now. You know that gorgeous creature draping herself all over Krum? Yeah, right. And I will eat my nasty Quidditch shirt if you do."_

"_No, I mean it. We went to school together," Oliver protested._

"_C'mon, mate. I think you have been hit with too many bludgers," Carson said as he led Oliver off the pitch._

"_Where did she go?" Oliver asked, looking back over his shoulder towards the pitch._

"_She probably went to 'celebrate' with Krum, now come on. We have to meet some people at the club in an hour," Carson said. The team usually went to one of the hot nightclubs in the towns they played at to check out the view and perhaps score a few drinks._

_Oliver looked at Carson and then back at the pitch. 'Celebrating with Krum? Hermione Granger? Nah!' he thought as he was herded into the locker room. 'Probably wasn't her anyway.'_

_End Flashback_

Oliver scoffed at his own stupidity back then. It was Hermione with Viktor Krum that day. He had been flipping through Quidditch Monthly a week later and there it was plain as the nose on his face. A photograph showed Krum out on the town with his team after their win and there she was, Hermione, at his side smiling and having that same deep look in her eyes that she showed on the pitch.

Oliver's thoughts turned back to the events of today. He ticked off the lesser important ones without regret. All of it faded into obscurity; nothing else existed in his mind after he walked out on the pitch that afternoon. His thoughts raced from one image to another.

Hermione's face lifted to the sun.

Her laughter at his joke about magic.

The blush she had tried to hide and suggesting a drink.

Her surprise at ending up at his house, and her stern voice demanding answers.

The way her voice flowed when she spoke about the research for his book.

Her quiet acceptance of her 'reputation' as the bookworm from Hogwarts.

Her eyes as she tried to look into his bedroom.

The joy in her voice after he showed her the spare room. 'I mean, library,' he corrected mentally.

Her happiness at seeing the photo of the team.

Laughter, then quietness as she looked at his book collection and ran her fingers down the table located in the corner.

The feel of her hands on his arms, the look in her eyes, the way she shuddered and bit her lip…

"BLOODY HELL," Oliver yelled to the empty room as he jumped up from the chair and went to the window nearest him. He opened the sash and breathed in the cool night air as he leaned on the frame. It was still cool in the evenings, as summer had just started. His blood started to cool and he focused on the pond located in the short distance from his house. "Bloody hell," he muttered as he pondered what to do about it.

O

O

Hermione lay on her small couch in pitch black and thought to herself, 'Bloody hell, Hermione."

She was going over the events of the day in her mind and was questioning when it had all spun out of control. 'When you kissed him, you twit,' she chided herself.

Hermione groaned.

"Why did you have to kiss him?" she yelled to the empty flat.

Things had gone along so well up until that point. She had steered the meeting back onto the track intended, the book. They had discussed the findings so far and Oliver had given the go ahead to contact Dean Sprodorov for any possible further information. Oliver had given her a tour of his house and she had been most pleased to see his library. It was a perfect environment for him. He fit in it so well, now that she had gotten to know him a bit better. Part athlete, part intellect. Both enmeshed completely in one amazing man.

Hermione blushed as she thought that. Her hands worried the small throw blanket she had pulled over herself. He was amazing, really. A true gentleman, through and through. His athletic abilities did not diminish her attraction to his mind. He was thoughtful and quite deep, really. His love for his family came through in that one statement made about his sister picking the rug for the kitchen.

His concern for her when she was reminiscing about Hogwarts spoke volumes, as well. He cared, it was that simple. They had only been in contact for a week and yet, he cared about her feelings and her thoughts. Her heart gave an extra hard thump. That was when he kissed her.

It had been amazing for her to feel his arms around her and his lips on hers. All the feelings she had felt before and buried deep were let loose once his lips met hers. Hermione had realized a long time ago that she was a passionate person. When she cared about something or someone, she did it with her whole being.

Hermione was again floating in a haze of feelings that she hadn't felt in a long time. 'So long a time,' she thought as she went back in her mind to this afternoon.

_Flashback_

_Earlier that day_

… "**_That," he whispered as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply._**

_Hermione felt his arms wrap around her tightly and she gave into the need for Oliver to touch her. She reached up and clutched him around his neck and pulled his head closer. Her body cried out for his and he obliged her, his hands seemingly everywhere. Oliver buried his hands in her hair again and then one slid down her back to clutch her tank in his fist. Then they were both back in her hair again. She whimpered slightly and he almost growled his satisfaction as he dove into her mouth again and again. Oliver's tongue was sliding across hers and she almost lost her balance right then. He moved from her mouth to her jaw and kissed his way to her ear and tugged the soft lobe in his teeth. She dug her nails into his sweater and he moved down to her neck. He was kissing along her collarbone to her strap on her tank when he stopped and let out a shuddering breath against her skin._

_Hermione's vision cleared and she seen that it was slightly shadowed in the room now. Oliver's hands slid around her and he held her very firmly. Hermione didn't know what to make of it, but she knew that it was a very good thing he stopped when he did. She couldn't get involved with OLIVER like that. She stopped that thought and amended it. She couldn't get involved with any man like that. Not now. Not yet._

_Oliver pulled away from her slowly and let his hands slide over her body. He rested his forehead on hers and his hands on her waist. Her hands were limp on his shoulders._

"_Hermione, I-"Oliver started to speak._

"_Shh," she said quietly, placing her fingers over his lips. "Please don't apologize again. It will make it seem much worse than it really is. It's ok, really." She took a deep breath and was thankful she couldn't see into his eyes right now. "I have to go." _

Oliver's hands tightened on her waist. She placed her hand on the side of his face, turned and walked away.

_  
End Flashback_

And he let her. That is what amazed Hermione so. That all that fire and heat between them didn't cause either one to lose complete control. Especially him.

Hermione had all this waging war in her mind with the fact that she had been burnt rather harshly by a man. Not just any man, but a Quidditch player at that. She had actually gotten scared when she had seen the darkness in Oliver's eyes. It reminded her of Viktor too much. Not that she was afraid of either man. But the feelings for one had instantly gotten muddled with the other. That was not something she was prepared to deal with yet. What she had felt for Viktor was long ago and she had put that part of her life away long ago, in regards to him. At least she had thought so, until today. Now, she may have to reexamine all that and it was not something she could do at this moment. At that very moment, she was beginning to fall asleep.

O

O

Two days later

It was just about time to leave for the day. Hermione walked into her office, reading her notes on the research she was still doing for Oliver, when she heard a cough. She dropped her paperwork and wand in hand, turned and seen Harry sitting in the chair opposite her desk.

"Hell of a way to greet your best friend," he said with a smirk.

"Bloody hell, Harry. You scared the life out of me," she said with little heat as she reached down to grab her dropped papers. She blew her bangs out of her eyes as she set the untidy pile down on the desk. She looked over at him to see him looking at her, his green eyes flashing with humor. She glared.

'Bloody hell' Hermione?" he asked. "Ron will be so pleased you have finally caught on to using his favorite curse," he said through his laughter.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," she said demurely as she conjured them both a cup of tea and sat down in her chair.

"Riiight," Harry said, smiling as she glared at him again.

"To what do I owe this unexpected, and might I add, _uninvited_ pleasure?" Hermione said as she prepared her tea.

Harry took a sip from his cup and asked, "What are you doing Sunday?"

"Well, seeing as it is my only full day off, I thought I would go skipping along the countryside and see if I could find some daisies to pick," she said, sarcasm dripping in every word. "Honestly, Harry. I am doing what all people do on their days off, sleeping in."

"Is that all?" he asked simply. Harry knew when Hermione was on the warpath, she used sarcasm to tip off the unsuspecting. Fortunately for him, he recognized this.

"I dunno, why?" Hermione said suspiciously.

"Well, Mum Weasley asked if you would care to join us all for a family picnic that day," Harry said idly.

Hermione felt instantly contrite. Mrs. Weasley, Molly, had always had a soft spot for Hermione, especially when she and Ron had dated. Molly had dreamed of them both married and raising children until Ron took away her fantasy by announcing that they both were taking breaks from dating and would appreciate it if they all understood and didn't bug them about it. Hermione doubted it was that eloquent, but it worked just the same. Hermione was a bit awkward around the Burrow for awhile after that when she would visit, but Molly took her aside one day and explained that while she wished it was different, she understood that sometimes, things weren't meant to be. Hermione had never felt uncomfortable again when she visited.

Hermione looked at Harry. He was watching the sky outside the window and just letting her deal with her emotional outburst as she always did. Her eyes softened. He really was one of her best friends, still, after all these years.

Harry looked back to Hermione and seen that look.

"What are you gonna do?" he asked, setting his cup down warily.

Hermione leapt up and ran over and kissed him noisily on his cheek.

"Ugh," he said, wiping his cheek off. "Girl germs."

Hermione then proceeded to smack him in the back of the head.

"OWW! Sheesh, you kiss me one second, and then thump me the next. What is with you?" he asked as he rubbed his head and followed her progress back around her desk again.

"Nothing," Hermione said in a sing-song voice. "Please tell Molly that I would be delighted."

"Man, girls are weird," Harry replied, still rubbing his head.

O

A/N: ok, so read on. There is blood, mayhem, and more to come. And that doesn't even count what will happen at the Burrow picnic! Ta Ta


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Do I have to say it? Please? Oh, FINE. Not mine, all Ms. Rowling's. There, ya happy? Bloodsucking lawyers! Sheesh!

The stadium teemed with fans. Some were decorated with blue souvenirs but it was mostly a sea of green that met Oliver's eyes as he floated in front of the hoops. This was an important match for Puddlemere. If they won here, they were in contention to go to the World Cup playoffs. Oliver understood better than most what that would mean to the team and the organization, having won a few World Cups in his tenure at Puddlemere.

But that was before. No one remembered before, except when you lost. Management beat their mantra into the coach's head and he, in turn, beat it into his team several times a week.

Oliver watched the Quaffle pass back and forth among the Irish team and was impressed. 'They play very well together,' he thought. Split second timing and fearless acrobatics had taken the Irish team far. Oliver readied himself as they came closer, until a bludger knocked the chaser's broom tail, spinning him, which caused him to drop the Quaffle. Hereford snagged it before the Irish team could recover and sped back off the pitch towards the Irish hoops.

"Yeah," Oliver yelled, "Give 'em hell, Ted!"

He watched as the Puddlemere chasers began the three-prong attack formation they practiced all this week.

The commentator was beside himself as he tried to follow the plays. The chasers were tossing the ball around so much, even Oliver had a bit of a time following it.

"SCORE FOR PUDDLEMERE!" the commentator yelled into his microphone and the crowds wearing blue cheered, while the ones wearing green groaned.

"The score stands at Irish Greenhats 90, Puddlemere United, 80."

Oliver smiled slightly. They could win this. They just need to grab the snitch quickly. His eyes roamed up to follow his Seeker, Simone. She was weaving back and forth trying to gauge the other teams' seeker abilities.

'Damn, that girl is good,' he thought as he focused back on the pitch, trying to locate the Quaffle.

He spotted the Irish chaser with red hair (didn't they all have red hair?) flying towards him faster than he expected. The Quaffle was tucked tightly in his arm and he dodged a bludger with a short turn to the left as he barreled down towards Oliver.

Oliver readied himself, trying to see the chaser's eyes. 'If his eyes bear left, and he is flying right, he will shoot left. But don't get too cocky, Wood. He could be trying to fake you with a fake,' he thought to himself.

All this ran through Oliver's mind as he lifted his seat a bit to get a better angle on his opponent. It was a trick that Oliver rarely used and it usually paid off big. It allowed him to put more weight on the front of his broom and get in front of the Quaffle better. He steadied his hands and focused on the chaser racing towards him.

The next few moments happened so fast, no one person could say for certain what happened. The chaser leaned left towards the left hoop, but his arm was aiming for the center. Oliver reached to block the shot and just then, a bludger came out from nowhere and slammed into his back. Now, Oliver was a tough player. He had been hit by bludgers in the face, neck, back, legs, you name it. He would usually keep on his broom and wait for the whistle to call time-out so he could get treated. But this time, because he was not actually seated on his broom, the bludger succeeded at knocking him off. Thank goodness for the safety measures built in, as the newer brooms were able to sense the person riding them and try to correct any mishaps, such as this. Oliver's broom swooped under him at the armpits and lowered him slowly to the ground. Time out was called and he was carried off on a stretcher.

Oliver was aware of everything going on, unfortunately. The pain was not enough to knock him out. He heard everything the healers were saying as he laid on his stomach on the stretcher and it was tearing his soul in two.

'Don't see how he can get back out there,' said one to his coach. 'This may be a permanent injury. He will have to be treated very carefully and watched for several months.'

He heard his coach grumble and stalk from the room.

Oliver closed his eyes and groaned in pain, but not from his injury.

Meanwhile….

The Potter household was struck silent. They were all seated on the couch in front of the TV watching Oliver being carried off the pitch on a stretcher.

Chelsea's eyes were big as she looked at Harry. "Is he going to be ok, Daddy?"

Harry's eyes met Ginny's over Chelsea's head. They both seen where the bludger hit and were concerned for their friend. Ginny squeezed Harry's shoulder where her hand rested.

"Daddy?" Chelsea asked again, her eyes showing unshed tears.

Harry kissed her on top of her head and said, "We'll see, baby. Oliver is a tough player and if anyone can come back from a hit like that, it would be him."

Ginny wasn't so sure.

* * *

Sunday, late morning…

Hermione was puttering around her flat, finishing up some household things that needed doing. She was listening to the wireless as she finished folding her clothes and was loading the basket to take in the other room. The music was interrupted suddenly.

"**_This just in…In sporting news today, Puddlemere United just announced that a new Keeper would be taking over while the injured Oliver Wood recovers. Michael Cook, reserve Keeper, just graduated from Hogwarts, will be stepping in until Mr. Wood's condition is improved. From the Puddlemere United's conference room moments ago…_**

"**_Coach McManus, Is it true that you have released Oliver Wood from contract and are already looking for another new reserve Keeper to fill Mr. Cook's shoes while he takes over in regular play?" a reporter asks._**

"_**Now, let me set the record straight," a gruff voice is heard saying. "Listen to me well, for I will not repeat myself. Oliver Wood is still a part of this team. He is its captain and a key player. Without his leadership and talent, this team would not be here today. As to his contract, this company has never and will never comment about such things. Michael Cook is a great asset to our team and he will be doing as he was hired to do. Filling in for Mr. Wood while he recovers from his injuries. That is all," he finished.**_

"_**Mr. Cook, are you thrilled to be given this opportunity?" another reporter shouted.**_

"**_Thrilled? One of the best damn players in the history of this sport is injured, folks. I have a commitment to this team and this organization. But none of that means anything if I have to try to fill Mr. Wood's shoes. That is not possible for me to do. He is the lifeblood of this team and we will be waiting until the day he takes the role of Keeper once again. And," Michael finished with a slight edge to his voice, "that is all I have to say."_**

"_**Mr. Cook! Coach McManus!" reporters called…**_

_**To this reporter's knowledge, Oliver Wood is said to be resting comfortably at an undisclosed location and has not been available for comment.**_

_**We now return you to your regular programming…**_

Hermione just stared at the wireless, her hands hanging in the basket still holding her shirt. She closed her eyes.

'Oh, Oliver,' she thought. 'I hope you are okay.'

* * *

As Hermione Apparates at the Burrow, all is quiet. She almost wonders if she got the time right, when four children come running around the corner of the house. The two girls in front race for Hermione, while the two boys behind shake what looks like spiders at them. The twins stop when they see Hermione tapping her foot on the ground, arms crossed. They look at one another and take off to the house.

"MAAAA!"

Fleur races out of the house, ready to do battle with whoever would dare scare her children. She sees no one but Hermione kneeling down to talk to the girls, calming them and making sure they are not hurt. Fleur turns around and sees her boys standing behind the porch swing, watching Hermione carefully.

"What eez the problem, boys?" Fleur asks.

"Hermione was looking at us!" they cried while pointing at Hermione.

"What?"

"She was giving us this evil eye, and we got scared," Kristoff said, the older of the two by 6 minutes.

Fleur looked at Hermione, who was holding both girls' hands in hers. "Hermione?"

"They are telling the truth, Fleur. But not the whole of it. Go on, tell her, boys," Hermione said sternly.

"What? We didn't do nuttin," Gabe said, scuffing his shoe on the porch.

"Boys, I had better be hearing ze truth from you, and right now," Fleur said, looking down at them with her hands on her hips.

Hermione had to deeply stifle her laughter. The girls just watched, wide eyed.

"Well, we were playing with Chels and Brittney, when they ran screaming-"Gabe started and his mother huffed.

"Gabriel, girls do not run screaming from little boys unless those boys have done something to deserve it," Bill said, coming though the door.

Kristoff and Gabe shared a look that seemed to say Uh oh, Dad is involved now.

"Well?" Fleur said loudly, breaking their silent communication.

"Okay, okay. We were chasing them with some fake candy spiders," Kristoff huffed, folding his arms across his little chest.

Both boys were slightly indignant as their parents read them the riot act about teasing their sister and cousin. Hermione took the girls into the house to get pumpkin juice and cookies, as they didn't need to witness it.

All three girls sat down at the table and munched on the cookies.

"Auntie Mione?" Chelsea asked.

"Yes, dear?" Hermione answered after taking a swallow of juice.

"What does undisclosed mean?" she asked.

"Undisclosed?" Hermione repeated.

"Yes, I heard it today on the wireless and I wondered what it meant," Chelsea stated as she dunked her cookie in her juice.

Hermione tried not to make a face at Chelsea's concoction and said, "Undisclosed means unknown, not known."

"Like a secret?" Brittany asked.

Hermione smiled at Bill and Fleur's youngest child. She was quite bright. "Yes, that is right, like a secret."

"So if someone is at an un-undi-undisclosed location, that means they are at a secret place?" Chelsea said.

Hermione recalled the news bulletin earlier today. It has stated that Oliver was at an undisclosed location.

"Um, yeah. That is it, a secret place," she finished.

"Ah. Well, good. That is good," Chelsea said with a sigh of relief.

"Why?" Hermione asked.

Chelsea looked at Brittney then back to Hermione. Hermione nodded and understood. This meant that it was for their secret talks and not to be said in front of Brittany.

The door shut loudly behind them and all three turned around. Two very contrite little boys and their steamed parents were standing there.

Bill knocked Kristoff in the back of the head. "We're sorry we tried to scare you girls," he said with no feeling at all.

Fleur tapped Gabe on the top of his head. "Ow!" He looked at his shoes. A small mumbled voice came from his chest area. "Sorry for tattling on you, Aunt Mione. You were just helping the girls."

Hermione looked up at Bill and Fleur with a small smile. They winked at her.

"I accept your apology, boys. Now, come here and give me a hug. I haven't seen you in ages!" She said.

They both looked at their parents, who nodded. The boys ran to Hermione and gave her hard hugs. The girls whined and wanted hugs too. The boys jumped away screaming, "Ewww, girl germs!" and went racing upstairs, the girls following behind.

Hermione watched them go and looked at Bill and Fleur. They had their arms around each others waists and watched their children adoringly. They all smiled and started to laugh.

The picnic was in full swing later on, as all the family and extended members had arrived. Fred and George had arrived with their fiancés Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell. Obviously, Harry, Ginny, and Chelsea were there already, along with Bill and Fleur and their family. Ron showed up right after the twins with his companion, Luna Lovegood.

Hermione was a bit shocked at that, but Ginny had explained that she had set them up a week ago. Hermione was glad that Ron was dating for two reasons. One, it meant that he was moving on. Two, it meant that he wouldn't be so worried about her love life if he had one of his own. The entire crowd was outside chatting while Molly and Fleur were preparing food in the kitchen.

Molly leaned out the door and hollered for Fred and George.

"Yes, Mum?" they replied together.

"Did you invite Oliver to come today?" she asked.

"We did, Mum, honest. Last week. He said he might be able to but it depended on his practice schedule," Fred replied. George observed Hermione taking an interest in this conversation.

Molly nodded and returned to the kitchen.

George whispered in Fred's ear and they both looked over at Hermione.

Hermione stood there thinking that if Oliver did show up, it would be quite awkward for the both of them, as Ginny walked up slowly and touched Hermione on the arm.

"You okay, sweetie?" Ginny asked.

"Yes, I'm fine. How about you? Ready to be done being pregnant?" Hermione teased.

"Oh, Merlin, yes. Still have another four months or so, and already I am ready to have this little man here," Ginny said in a rush.

"I tell you what, that son of mine is gonna be the best Gryffindor Quidditch captain we have ever seen," Harry boasted, as he swung Chelsea on his back.

"Silly Daddy, Oliver Wood is the best Gryffindor Quidditch captain ever," Chelsea exclaimed over Harry's shoulder.

"Hey, Harry," Ron called from across the yard.

"Excuse me, ladies." Harry leaned in and gave Ginny a quick peck on the cheek and turned to gallop over to Ron, a giggling Chelsea on his back.

"It is amazing to me some days what a great father Harry turned out to be," Hermione said, "given his upbringing."

Ginny tugged on Hermione's arm and gestured to some chairs sitting underneath a tree. They both settled in and watched Harry and Ron taking turns galloping around the yard with the small girls on their backs. They all were laughing at the silliness and sweetness of it all.

"I do know what you mean, about Harry," Ginny said. "He is such a loving father and husband. I have to believe it is genetic, and not a learned behavior."

"Well, I don't know. He had plenty of opportunity to witness your parents dealing with you and your brothers," Hermione said. "And then, you have to factor in the L variable."

"L Variable?" Ginny asked, looking at Hermione.

"Love, Ginny."

"Oh," Ginny said as she blushed. "I don't know that I had anything to do with his parenting skills."

"Well, you certainly have given him what he needs to feel safe and secure. That was something that was lacking from his life for almost his entire childhood, until he found Ron on the train," Hermione said, sipping her juice. "I think it started there, and continued when you two fell in love."

"My, you are being awfully deep today," Ginny said, her eyes bright.

"Ha, you just caught me on one of my philosophical days," Hermione said in a joking manner.

"Is that all it really is?" Ginny asked. "Or is it something else?"

"Like what?" Hermione said, turning to Ginny.

"Like, uh, well," Ginny stammered, "I don't know. That is why I am asking you."

"Hmm, okay." Hermione said, looking back at the group on the lawn.

George and Fred had overheard Hermione going on about love and were just about beside themselves (A/N: Get it? Twins, besides themselves? HA HA) plotting the downfall of an unsuspecting best friend.

They watched as both women proceeded into the house to help Molly and Fleur with the preparations.

"Oh, man," Fred said, "this is too good to be true."

"I know, I know. I can't wait to-"George began but was interrupted by one Katie Bell.

"Can't wait for what, George Weasley?" Katie said as she walked up, Angelina following behind.

"Um, nothing dear," George said, with a wink to Fred.

"Don't give me that, I know you too well. Now, spill," Katie demanded.

"Fred, you better not be plotting anything to cause havoc today. I am getting tired of apologizing everywhere we go," Angelina said with a bored look.

"Honest, we aren't gonna do anything. We were just talking about," he said, searching around for a subject, "about, um, Oliver!" George smacked his forehead with his hand.

"What about Oliver?" Katie asked menacingly.

"Just what a shame it is what happened and all," Fred said, scuffing his toe in the dirt. (Remind you of anyone?)

"So," Angelina said, crossing her arms, "why can't you wait to?" She gestured for them to go on.

George and Fred looked at each other. The girls were not gonna let this go. They nodded.

"Okay, we will tell you what we have going, but you have to promise not to breathe a word of it. If it ever got back that we were going behind people's backs for this," George began.

"Nobody would be surprised in the least," Angelina finished, as the twins rolled their eyes and laid out their plan to the women they loved. The girls listened, and after they both gave shocked gasps, they started to see the twins reasoning and pretty soon, the girls had the gleam of intrigue in their eyes.

A/N: I am closing this out here, becuz honestly, I have got to get some sleep. I will try to crank out a few more chapters tomorrow, but the DAYTONA 500 is on, so I will not promise anything. :D GO 20! TA TA


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Not mine. You know whose it is. Don't even start. :D

Hermione walked along the forest next to the Burrow thinking. Chelsea was a few steps ahead, sometimes skipping, sometimes dancing through the path. She looked back at Hermione to see her brow furrow and stopped to wait.

"Aunt Mione?" Chelsea asked.

"Yes, my dear," Hermione answered absently.

"Can I tell you my secret now?" Chelsea asked.

"Oh, well, sure, love," Hermione said, focusing on the thoughtful face of her 'honorary' niece.

"Okay, well, it is a big secret, okay, so you have to _promise promise_ not to tell anyone," Chelsea said in a rush.

They had reached a small clearing on the side of the path, where a few boulders were setting to the side.

"Why don't we sit down, and then you can tell me," Hermione said, walking to the side.

Chelsea bounded up on one of the larger rocks and settled her little legs in front of her, sitting almost Indian style, with her arms wrapped around her knees and her hands clasped in front of her. Hermione settled on a rock next to her and waited.

"Uh, well, it is kinda funny that I am thinking about this, because I am not nearly old enough," Chelsea began, looking at her hands.

"Old enough for what, love?" Hermione asked, reaching up to push a loose bit of hair behind Chelsea's ear.

"Boys," Chelsea said, the Weasley flush creeping up, turning her face a slight pink.

"B-boys?" Hermione said haltingly. This was most surprising.

"Yes, boys," Chelsea said.

"What about boys?" Hermione urged.

"Well, the fact that most of them are silly gits," Chelsea said, then smacked her hand over mouth as she looked at Hermione.

Hermione chuckled. "Okay, you get that one time, but don't ever let your parents hear you say that. And try not to say it at all anymore; it is not a good word to use."

"Okay. Well, most of them are just weird, ya know?" Chelsea started again, looking around at the tree trunks surrounding them.

"Um, I guess that can be said, yes," Hermione said, thinking back to Harry's words in her office.

"Yeah, and they are always touching icky things and saying how cool it all is," Chelsea continued. "But, some of them are really nice too."

Trying to keep her face impassive, Hermione nodded for Chelsea to go on.

"There is this one boy, he is older than me, but he is oh so nice and he has the most wonderful eyes," Chelsea gushed, the words of a 15 year old coming from her mouth. "He is taller than me, but that is okay, because I still have time to grow."

"And does he know you like him?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, no! I wouldn't be able to tell him that, he would think that I just a silly little thing and then we could never be together," Chelsea said looking horrified, her eyes open wide.

"So, what do you propose to do about this then?" Hermione said, as she always encouraged Chelsea to draw conclusions and find solutions for herself.

"Well, I don't know that I can't do anything at the moment," Chelsea said. "I am only five years old and he is very grown up."

Hermione shook her head slightly. 'This little lady is going to be quite able to handle herself someday,' she thought to herself.

"Well," Hermione began, "does this mystery boy have a name?"

"Yes," Chelsea said proudly, "his name is Oliver Wood."

Hermione swallowed hard and was just about to say something, when Harry came running up and said, "Almost time for dinner, ladies. Let's get you washed up, Chels."

Chelsea nodded at her daddy and slid off the rock. She brushed her hands on her shorts and looked up at Hermione, who was still a bit flustered. Chelsea leaned forward and gave Hermione a kiss on the cheek, whispering "Thanks for keeping my secrets, Aunt Mione."

Hermione watched Chelsea bounce over to Harry as he picked her up and settled her at his waist. Chelsea laid her head on his shoulder and Harry rubbed her back as he carried her towards the house. Hermione was following a short distance behind, wondering how she managed to be in this position.

* * *

"Oliver, where do you put your socks?" a woman's voice asked.

"In the left side of the top drawer, Mum" Oliver answered.

"Do you ever put away your clothes?" Mrs. Wood asked.

Oliver was sitting on his couch, watching the sun beat down on the patio outside his living room. He had been at home for the last two days, trying to decide what he was going to do now.

She walked into the living room with the sheets from Oliver's bed in her arms. "Oh, by the way, since when do you invite ladies to your house?" she said, with one eyebrow cocked.

Oliver looked at her strangely.

"I found a yellow sweater buried in that armchair there," she said, indicating the one across the room. "It seemed a bit small for you, so I assumed it was a young woman's."

"Mum, don't start, okay," Oliver said with a groan. He hadn't realized Hermione had left her sweater behind the other day.

Kyla Wood just smiled at her son and proceeded to take the sheets to the laundry area near the front of the house. (A/N: Does anyone know how witches and wizards actually DO laundry?) "I also cleaned out your icebox, Oliver dear. How many weeks does butterbeer keep anyway?"

Oliver rolled his eyes, laid his head back on the couch and groaned again. He adored his mum. Really. But he wasn't sure how much more of this he could take.

"Awww, is poor Ollikins having a bad day?" a voice whined from the chair.

"Fred, George, I not be in the mood today for yer games," Oliver growled, his accent carrying through the living room.

"What was that, dear?" Mrs. Wood said from the front of the house.

"Nothing, Mum," Oliver replied, raising his head to glare at his uninvited companions.

"Aw, you didn't say your mum was here, Ollikins," Fred said with a devious wink to his twin.

"No, I didn't, now please leave," Oliver pouted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oliver Douglas Wood, who in the world are you talking to?" his mother admonished, as she walked into the living room. Her eyes widened when she seen the twins.

"Oh!" she said happily. "It is soo good to see your handsome faces again! Now, come over here so I can give you proper greetings!" she exclaimed, turning her head to glare at Oliver. "Why didn't you say the twins were coming over?" she demanded. Oliver shrugged.

George lifted her in a hug and twirled her around. "Mrs. Wood, if you ever decide to have a May-December romance, will you please come find me?" Oliver rolled his eyes.

"Oh, you," Kyla said, blushing slightly, as Fred released her from his hug. "So, how is the shop doing?"

"Fine, Mrs. Wood," Fred replied.

"And the girls?" she asked, pulling imaginary fluff off of Fred's shirt. "They are well too?"

"Oh, yes ma'am." they said in unison.

"What about your mother? You have not driven her crazy yet, have you?" Kyla scolded. She had met Molly years ago at one of the Hogwarts Quidditch matches and they had become fast friends.

"No, she is actually concentrating on the grands more now, so we are pretty much off the hook," George replied.

"Our twin nephews have been giving her fits lately…it is a beautiful thing, really," Fred said, wiping an imaginary tear.

"I see," Kyla said, smiling at Fred's antics. "Well, I will have to owl her one of these days for tea."

"Well, not really, Mrs. Wood. We are having a sort of extended family picnic today, and we would like to invite you and Oliver along," George explained. Fred turned to him, and caught the gleam in his twin's eye.

"Really, oh that would be lovely," she said with a smile, as she looked at Oliver.

"I don't really feel-"Oliver began.

"Oh, nonsense, Oliver, it will do you good to get some fresh air. You have not set one foot out of this house since you came home and you need the exercise. The healers said that you were able to resume a normal schedule, just no flying or strenuous motions," his mother stated. "Now, march in there and get something presentable on; you cannot show up to Molly's looking like you slept in your clothes. Scoot!"

George and Fred grinned as Oliver hefted his tall frame off from the couch and grumbled his way to his room. 'Why me?' He thought to himself.

Oliver presented himself in the living room a short while later, wearing a pair of plain blue jeans, a tight black tee and a blue oxford thrown over the top, tails hanging out. Kyla was seated on the couch catching up with the twins and turned to see Oliver standing with his hands in his pockets. He was not happy.

"Well, that is a vast improvement over workout sweats and tank tops," Kyla commented. She had changed as well. Her short brown hair, slightly streaked with grey, was brushing the collar of her periwinkle blue blouse. She had put on a pair of white capri pants and a fetching pair of sandals.

Oliver just shrugged at her comment and was working his way into a good sulk.

Fred and George recognized this and immediately stood up to usher their guests to the picnic.

* * *

Hermione was bringing the salad she had made out to the tables situated in the yard, when she heard a distinct 'pop' next to her.

"My word, Fred, don't do that," she exclaimed. She had almost dropped the dish and was clutching it in her hands.

"George, Hermione," he teased. "You would think after all these years you could tell us apart."

"Your own mother can't even do that," she sniffed.

"Fred, don't tease her," a woman's voice scolded.

Hermione turned around more fully to see who had spoken. What greeted her eyes was not what she was expecting.

The sound of breaking glass was heard.

"Careful, lass," Oliver said quickly and deeply, herding Hermione backwards so she wouldn't get hurt.

Kyla's eyebrow rose at the twins, and she was met with innocent faces. She snorted lightly.

Hermione recovered quickly and stammered, "N-no, that's okay, Oliver. I've g-got it."

Oliver had squatted down to pick up the scattered remnants of glass and salad.

"Oliver, really. You don't want to strain-"Hermione began, squatting down with him.

He looked at her face quickly, trying to catch her eyes, but they were focused on the floor.

"Is everything okay here?" Molly asked, breezing in from the back yard. "Kyla!" she exclaimed.

"Hello, Molly, how have you been?" Kyla responded, walking around her son and the attractive, albeit, clumsy, brunette next to him.

"Oh, it is a great thing to see you again," Molly said, looking at Kyla, exclaiming "you look wonderful."

"Oh, thank you. You too," Kyla said, adding, "no one would ever know you were a grandmother."

They hugged and giggled like school girls.

Hermione snuck a glance at Oliver, who was shaking his head. Their hands reached for the same piece of glass.

The soft touch shocked Hermione and she pulled back quickly, cutting her index finger.

"Ssss, ouch," Hermione whispered, putting the injured finger in her mouth.

"Aye, don't do that," Oliver muttered. He took her hand and mumbled a few words and the wound disappeared.

Hermione looked at her finger in his large hand, and then at Oliver's face. He just smiled slightly as he let go of her hand.

He stood up and cleared his throat.

"Hermione, I would like to introduce my mother, Kyla Wood," Oliver stated, bringing his mum forward. "Mum, this is Hermione Granger."

A/N: I am sorry this is so short. I was quite distracted today, with the race and talking to my hubby online. I will be sure to get back on track with the next few. I am trying so hard not to fall into the trap of writers block. Thank to all who have reviewed and also to those who haven't. Just reading my story is enough for me. (OK not really, but I do appreciate the reads) :D TA TA


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: OH MY WORD! I couldn't get this stupid freakin useless chapter up! OY! I feel better now! whew! and you know the usual, not mine, all hers, she knows, i know, u know...cmon..lol

* * *

"_Hermione, I would like to introduce my mother, Kyla Wood," Oliver stated, bringing his mum forward. "Mother, this is Hermione Granger."_

Hermione was reminded of the day Oliver came to her office almost two weeks ago, as he introduced her to his mother. Oh my word has it only been that long, Hermione thought to herself, as she stood up and wiped her hands on the back of her jeans.

"I am very pleased to meet you, Ms. Granger," Oliver's mother smiled, shaking Hermione's hand.

"Hello, Mrs. Wood," Hermione said.

"Please, call me Kyla," she asked.

Hermione nodded, as she snuck a glance up at Oliver. He was looking at her with warmth that was, honestly, making her a bit uncomfortable.

Molly observed Oliver and smiled to herself. Taking a breath, she said, "Well, let's not all just stand here, come, come. We were just about to sit down."

Everyone kind of laughed nervously, as Molly went into the kitchen to retrieve more things to take outside, and Kyla followed.

Oliver stood there, looking down at Hermione, while she was trying to look anywhere but at him. He opened his mouth to say something, as Hermione walked to the sink and retrieved a cloth to clean up the mess on the floor. He looked down at the mess and shrugged. Taking out his wand, he said a quick "_Reparo_" under his breath and all was returned to its former state.

Hermione came back and looked at the now intact dish in his hands and blinked. "Uh, yeah, right," she uttered, as she shook her head. 'I have got to get out of here,' she thought.

Molly and Kyla were walking out the door to the back yard and Hermione made to follow them. Oliver reached out and caught her wrist. She turned back to him with one eyebrow raised.

"Uh, what should I do with this?" he asked, releasing her.

"Oh, well, just give it here," Hermione said. She took the ruined salad and tossing it into the trashbin, placed the dish in the sink to be washed.

Oliver was standing at the door waiting for her. She wiped her hands on a dishtowel, and running her hands down her hair, she walked towards him slowly.

"Hermione," Oliver began, blocking the door.

"Oliver, really. I would just like to forget it happened, ok?" she asked calmly, looking up at his chin.

It was a good thing she hadn't looked into his eyes at that point, as they were flashing dangerously at her statement. Hermione's hands were twisting in front of her, the only thing that betrayed her. His racing blood slowed a bit as he realized she was a bundle of nerves.

Oliver sighed. "Yes, that would probably be a good idea," he said quietly. Hermione nodded and he moved to allow her pass, opening the door for her.

The meal passed without any more mishaps, unless you count the youngest Weasley twins engaging in a 'did not, did so' argument. Fred and George just smiled at the glares that Bill gave them, as Fleur quieted them down. Talk flowed naturally around the table, except in two instances, which occurred at different ends of the table.

Hermione was quiet, her mind on other matters, as she pushed her food around. She only spoke to Chelsea, who was seated next to her and talked only in between bites of food. She was a Weasley after all.

Oliver was similarly inclined to not speak except in monosyllabic answers. It was frustrating to those seated around him, and finally, the meal was finished.

Molly and Kyla directed the men to clear the dishes, while the ladies were occupied with the children. Chelsea latched onto Hermione and they walked over to the area where Ginny and she had spoken earlier. Angelina, Katie, and Ginny joined them. Luna helped Fleur corral the twins and Brittany; soon they were engaged in a game of tag.

The guys were not happy, but did their jobs quickly so they could get done and out of the house before their mum found something else for them to do. Oliver lingered over carrying his load in, casting quick glimpses at Hermione as she walked away.

"Aunt Mione?" Chelsea asked.

"Yes?"

"Did you see him?" Chelsea said in a whisper.

Hermione was still thinking about the incident in the kitchen and responded offhand, "Who, dear?"

Chelsea looked around at the other three ladies sitting in the chairs, conversing about wedding preparations.

"Oliver," Chelsea said in the tiniest voice she had ever used.

Hermione's eyes widened. It had completely slipped her mind what Chelsea had told her earlier that day. "Um, yes, dear. I saw him. Why?"

"So?" Chelsea said in a small voice again. "Isn't he handsome?"

Hermione looked at the little bundle of sweetness and innocence sitting on her lap and smiled. "Yes, he is very handsome."

Chelsea sighed. She laid her head back on Hermione's chest and looked towards the house, waiting for the men to return. Hermione's hand brushed her curls down her back as she looked over at Ginny. Ginny asked a silent 'what?' and Hermione just shook her head slightly. She laid her cheek on Chelsea's head and listened to the chatter next to her, sighing lightly herself.

* * *

"I am gonna package all this extra food for you to take home, Oliver," Molly said, as she magically swept all the leftovers into neat little dishes for two. Kyla directed the others to get busy with the rest of the clean up.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley, but that isn't really necessary," Oliver said as he carried the last of the dishes in from the yard. He had taken longer than the others, as he was watching Hermione.

"Nonsense, I want to," she insisted.

"Well, thank you again, Mrs. Weasley," Oliver said graciously. His mother looked over at him and beamed. She loved watching him display the manners she had instilled in him, none to easily either.

"Hey, Mum, are we done?" Fred said desperation on his face. He hated cleaning up.

"Yes, dear. Now you all can go take down the extra seating and tables from outside," Molly replied. She knew how much the twins hated cleaning up. She had seen their flat at the shop.

All the men rushed outside before she could add anything else to the list.

"Well, Mum, do you think we should be heading out?" Oliver asked, anxious to get away from the temptation of a certain brunette sitting in the shade outside.

"Not yet, dear," Kyla said with a smile. "I would like to visit with Molly over a cup of tea. Why don't you go outside and visit with your friends?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied.

Oliver walked out the door and seen the Weasley twins levitating the tables and chairs around the yard, much to the amusement of the younger twins standing beside them. Harry, Ron, and Bill were doubled over with laughter. He looked over to the group under the tree. Fleur, Brittany, and Luna had joined the others and they were discussing the latest hot topics from the Daily Prophet. Hermione was sitting off to the side a bit, with the little red haired angel, Chelsea, on her lap. They both had their eyes closed. Oliver felt as if a hand had fisted over his heart. 'This is not gonna be easy,' he thought.

Angelina had seen Oliver walk out from the house, and nudged Katie. They both observed Oliver as his eyes fixed on Hermione. They looked at each other and winked, then excused themselves from the group of ladies and walked over to Oliver.

Oliver watched as two of his three Gryffindor chasers approached him. He smiled slightly and asked, "How are you two doing?"

Angelina smiled back at him and reached up to coax a stray piece of hair back into her ponytail. "We are doing fine, Captain," she joked. "We are a bit worried about you though."

"Me? Why?" Oliver asked, looking at them both, surprise on his features.

"Well, we are all aware of what happened last week," Katie said, the question in her eyes. "Just wondering how you are coping?"

"Oh, that," Oliver said, with a slight edge to his voice. "I am fine really. The healers just want me to take it easy so that my back can heal properly."

"Um hmm," Angelina said. "So, your reluctance to engage with any sort of conversation today is just part of your 'healing'?"

Oliver flushed. "Well, it is a bit of shock to not be in the air, or racing off to whatever practice or match is next."

"Well, that is perfectly understandable," Katie replied with some sympathy. Oliver looked at her warmly.

"I," Angelina interjected firmly, shooting Katie a glare, "just wanted to make sure you weren't going to waste away with all this free time you have now."

"Uh, right," Katie said quickly. "You need to do something to occupy yourself, Oliver, so you don't get all mopey and forlorn."

"Forlorn?" Oliver asked, his eyebrows raising. He laughed out loud at that. The smile that was on his face was quite a sight, and both girls remembered the slight crushes they held for their esteemed leader while in school.

"Well, I am sure I can find something to keep my struggling soul occupied, ladies," he chuckled.

"So, what would you ladies like to do now?" Fred asked as he and George walked over, wondering how their fiancés had gotten Oliver to laugh like that.

"Why don't you take the children down to the pond?" Ginny said, as she walked over. Hermione was behind her with a sleeping Chelsea in her arms. Oliver's face became a blank slate again as he opened the door for her to go inside. She smiled her thanks as she went in. His eyes followed her, much to the interest of the rest of the group standing there.

Oliver turned back around to see four heads whip around to look at the ground or the amazing color of the sky. He focused on Ginny, who was watching him with a fierce look on her face.

"Yes, why don't we take them down to the pond?" George said, as he bent down to allow Kristoff to jump on his back, Fred doing the same with Gabe. Brittany was being led over by Fleur to Angelina and Katie. Luna, Ron, Harry, and Bill were already headed that way.

"Come on you little imps," Fred said as he started to gallop down the path to the pond, the rest of the crew following; Fleur and Ginny watching them go, all with a smile on their faces. Oliver ducked away and went over to the chairs, choosing the one that Hermione had been sitting in. He rested his chin on his fist in an all too familiar pose, looking out at the makeshift Quidditch pitch next to the house.

* * *

Kyla and Molly were sitting at the table, enjoying their tea and chatting about the grandchildren. Kyla heard the little children running about outside, laughing and gave a sigh.

"I don't know if my two will ever settle down," she said plainly.

Molly reached over and patted her hand. "I wouldn't worry overly, Kyla. It will happen and soon you will be overrun with your own little angels."

"I certainly hope so. Ainsley is so fixated on her career; she won't even consent to take a break to visit anymore. And Oliver," here, Kyla sighed, "Oliver is always on the road or dashing off to practice or working promotions for the team. He doesn't have the time to devote to a relationship."

"Well, I have noticed that whether you have time for it or not, if it is meant to be, a way will be made," Molly observed.

Kyla gave an 'hmm' and lifted her cup to take a sip. Oliver's deep laughter rang through the back door and she smiled warmly. "I haven't heard him laugh like that in ages," she said softly.

"He will have a tough road, with his injury and all the recovery time he will need. But," Molly gave a secret smile as she set her tea down again, "this may have been a good thing."

Kyla's eyes widened until she realized what Molly meant. "Yes, you may be right. An opportunity to stop and smell the roses, so to speak."

Molly nodded and both ladies settled back in their chairs to think.

Just then the back door opened and Hermione walked through with Chelsea. "Where?" she whispered.

Molly gestured towards the living room smiling. She looked back at Kyla, who was watching Hermione with great interest. She had not missed Oliver's quick response to the broken dish and Hermione's cut finger. "Molly," Kyla began, turning back to the smiling woman across from her, "is she the same Miss Granger that helped Harry Potter defeat-"she began.

Molly nodded and winked at Kyla. Kyla looked towards the back door again. "Very interesting," she muttered into her cup.

Hermione laid Chelsea down on the couch and covered her with a light throw blanket. She looked down at the little girl and felt a lurch in her chest. She brushed a lock of hair from Chelsea's face with shaking fingers and stood up. 'Some day,' she thought.

* * *

Hermione walked into her dark flat wearily. The picnic had been a great idea, in concept. With all the different emotions she had experienced today, she felt as if she had climbed Mt. Everest. Her keys jangled on the side table near the entrance and she walked into the living room, stretching her neck from side to side. She set down on her couch and put her feet up. Lying there, she thought back on the day and realized that she hadn't really spoken to Oliver that much at all. The interlude in the kitchen when he had first arrived. The short goodbye right before his mother and he left.

That was it.

"This will never do," she said lightly to the darkness. They would have to figure out some sort of compromise in order to get anywhere in regards to his book.

A soft scratching noise was heard and Hermione looked over to the bay window looking out on the street. A large brown owl was there, with something on his leg. She rose from the couch and walked over to open the window. The owl hopped in and held its leg out while Hermione removed the parchment. She turned to grab an owl treat, but the owl was gone when she turned back to offer it. She shrugged, tossed the treat back into the box, and went back to the couch, opening the letter as she walked.

Hermione's eyes squinted to try to read the letter, but it was too dark. She muttered a word and she was bathed in soft firelight as the grate lit up. She settled in and looked at the long letter again. It was from Dean Sporodov.

_Miss Granger-_

_After receiving your request, I conducted some research on the subject matter and came up with several resources located in private collections. I have received permission from the owners located here in Bulgaria to study and examine the actual documents and texts in our conservatory. As you know, the Bulgarian Conservatory is renowned for our security measures and safety precautions in order to preserve precious artifacts, so this comes as no surprise. I can assure you that said artifacts will be here for your perusal when you wish._

_Unfortunately, I was not able to procure access to three texts located in Scotland. All requests have been returned, unopened. The owners of these texts are known for their discretion and wish to stay out of the spotlight, so to speak, and I am afraid that they may not consent to our transport of these texts to our facility. If you could make inquiries as to perhaps examining these texts in their presence, it will most certainly make it more feasible to actually come to an informed conclusion pertaining to your research._

_The family in question is located north of Blairgowrie, Scotland. They have lived in the area for centuries and most residents in the area will know who you speak of. The Wood estate will hopefully consent to your examination of their collection and I would advise you to send out owls as soon as possible._

_Please keep me informed of your progress and your imminent arrival._

_Sincerely,_

_Ivan_

Hermione was in a state of total shock. _The Wood Estate Collection?_ She had never made the connection to Oliver or his family and was quite perturbed with herself. Of course, the Wood Collection was infamous for its size and quality of ancient texts and antiquities. How thick could she be?

'Pretty thick," she thought to herself, closing her eyes with a groan.

A/N: Ok, I thought I should steer the story back to safer territory. Too much lovey dovey can wear a person out. Look for interesting developments in the next few chapters, as Hermione and Oliver come to an agreement of sorts. Please read, and if you feel the urge, review. And check out the new homepage link I put up. ;) Thanx TA TA


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Whew! This is getting to be a long story!

* * *

Hermione knocked on the dark wood door. Sunshine warmed her back as she fiddled with her blouse and skirt to check that she was presentable. It was still quite early in the morning. She had already been to work to speak with Evan, her boss, about the letter. 

The door opened and a smiling woman with dark hair stood in the entry.

"Ms. Granger? What a surprise to see you? How are you? Please come in, come in," Kyla said as she stepped back. Hermione smiled and walked into Oliver's home.

I am sorry if I'm intruding upon you too early, Mrs. Wood," Hermione apologized.

"Please, Kyla," she asked, as she closed the door.

"Thank you, and please call me Hermione," she responded as she followed Oliver's mother into the kitchen.

"Now, what brings you by?" Kyla asked, moving to the table to sit down to her morning tea. It was still steaming.

"I am here to speak to Oliver about a book that he recently purchased. Is he here?" Hermione asked.

"I am sorry, he isn't here right now," Kyla stated. "He will be back shortly. He was to see the healer this morning."

Hermione's spirits sank; she really wanted to talk to him and then get back to her office to make arrangements.

"Ah, well would you mind terribly if I waited for him? This is a bit urgent," Hermione asked.

"Not at all, please, sit down," Kyla replied, placing another cup of tea in front of one of the chairs.

Hermione sat down. As she prepared her tea, Kyla asked about her work.

Hermione loved to talk about books and her job at the bookstore, so this was an open invitation.

They were still talking an hour later, as Oliver apparated into his living room to hear two women laughing in the kitchen.

Figuring it was just Mrs. Weasley, he hollered, "MUM! I am going to the spare room."

His mother walked out of the kitchen, her face bright with humor. "Oliver, how many times have I asked you, oh never mind. You have a visitor."

Oliver's brow rose as he looked into the kitchen. His eyes rested on Hermione and he smiled softly. His mother caught this but said nothing. He looked at his mother and cleared his throat. Hermione stood up and walked to him.

"Good morning, Hermione." 'Good-nice level, no tension in the voice-'Oliver thought to himself.

'Relax, breathe in, out,' Hermione thought, as she said, "Good morning. I have some more information about the book if you have time."

Oliver breathed easier. "Yes, certainly. Would you excuse us, Mum?"

"Actually, I would like to speak to you both if I may?" Hermione inquired.

"But, of course, dear," Kyla said, looking at Oliver. He extended his arm and then followed the ladies to the library.

Once the Woods were settled in the armchairs, Hermione stood in front of them.

"Well, I heard from Dean Sporodov yesterday evening," she began.

"Um, Hermione, before you start in the middle, let me bring my mother in on what this is about," Oliver interrupted. She nodded.

"Mum, you know how I am always bringing things home from traveling with the team, right?" Oliver asked his mother.

"But, of course. Our library would not be as full as it is without your contributions, dear," Kyla said with a smile. She adored the fact that her son was not as single-minded as when he was in school.

"Right, well, I have a new text that I wasn't sure about, so I asked a friend to examine it, but he is no longer participating in that area, so I was directed to Miss, uh, Hermione, and we have been trying to get background information about this particular text," Oliver finished.

"But, of course," Kyla said with an air of authority. "We were discussing her work before you returned. She is quite the accomplished young lady," Kyla said, smiling widely at Hermione.

"Uh, well, thank you, Kyla," Hermione said, her eyes looking down. Compliments sometimes made her uncomfortable.

"Is that all?" Kyla asked.

"Yes, I think that has us up to the moment," Hermione stated, looking to Oliver for confirmation. He smiled and gestured her to continue.

"Okay, well, I heard from Ivan yesterday evening. He has found some very interesting leads as to substantial resources of information that will be at my disposal when I arrive at the Bulgarian Conservatory," Hermione said. She began explaining the facilities there, and what measures would be taken to preserve the privacy and integrity of the collections she was to work with.

Oliver and Kyla listened quietly to her, until Hermione came upon the reason she needed to speak with both of them.

"Now, this part of the research may take some time, but I have been given leave to pursue this by Evan, and will be traveling to the Conservatory at the earliest opportunity," Hermione stated, "Which brings me to my need to speak with you both. Ivan referenced another collection that may be quite valuable to the research and asked for my help in obtaining access. It is located in Scotland."

Kyla and Oliver exchanged glances and immediately Hermione felt the change in the air.

"No," Oliver stated. Kyla looked at him.

"No?" Hermione asked, looking back and forth at Oliver and his mother.

"I'm sorry, but I can't let just anyone in our home to pick over our things," Oliver stated.

"But," she began, "this could be the difference between knowing and not knowing." She was getting angry. 'Just anyone, am I?'

Oliver saw the fire leap into her eyes and cleared his throat. "Look, Hermione. This collection has been in our family for centuries, long before my grandfather's grandfather. We are constantly bombarded with requests to purchase, look over, or borrow some item or book. Only recently, we were approached by another researcher, or so they said, to acquire some of the most mundane texts imaginable. They were offering everything but a ransom for them, but we still turned them down."

"And you see me as someone who would try to obtain information from these things for any purpose other than that which you have hired me to do?" she asked, a slight edge to her voice. The insult was hard to take, implied or not. He had just grouped her in with a perhaps unscrupulousgroup of people,and she didn't appreciate it, not one bit. Her eyes pinned him to the chair.

Oliver shifted a bit, but held his ground. "I am sorry, but even for my own purposes, I just cannot allow-".

"Oliver, this is your book, correct?" Kyla asked, her voice interrupting the glaring contest going on.

Oliver looked at his mother. "Yes."

"And, you have hired Miss Granger to research it?"

"Yes, but still-"Oliver said.

"Then I don't see the problem. This is not an unknown person or establishment looking to steal our secrets if you will," Kyla explained. She had a plan working in her head, and wanted to see if her suspicions were founded or not.

"Mum, we have never allowed anyone to look at our collection, simply because of what is contained," Oliver said. "Why would we start now?"

Kyla looked at her son. "Oliver, just because you always do something, doesn't mean it is always the right thing."

"But," he began.

"I think we should allow her to examine the things that are necessary to your research, with supervision, of course," Kyla explained, looking at Hermione. "She is not going to jeopardize her own reputation by hieing off with our things, Oliver. Really, I am surprised you don't have more faith in her than that." Kyla was standing now, her arms folded. She wasusing a tone thatOliverhadn't heardin years.

Oliver shifted again and looked down to the floor.

Hermione walked over to his chair and knelt down. "Oliver, I will treat the Wood Collection like it is my own child. I wouldn't dream of taking something from someone that is so precious and rare." Her eyes looked into his, freely. She was quite determined to let him know how serious she was.

Oliver looked at her and was stuck again by the things her eyes told him. The excitement of finding out something new was there, sparkling, along with something else. Pain, sorrow, and, surprisingly, hope and passion. 'She is determined to do this,' he thought. He was silent for a moment as he looked into the depths of her and found only the purest motives. They were locked in their gaze until Kyla cleared her throat.

"Now, Hermione, you will be able to guarantee that none of the information contained or the knowledge of how extensive the collection is will be divulged to anyone else?" Kyla said. Two sets of eyes blinked quickly and turned her way.

"Well, I can guarantee that any information found would be kept by me, once I have concluded my research. New policies have been implemented by the Conservatory itself, to keep others from acquiring information that may be hazardous," Hermione stated, as she stood. "It is a slightly modified form of secret-keeping, but not as severe as a Memory Charm. I am unable to tell anyone specifics about anything I have been privy to, other than acknowledged facts."

"Well, then. I guess that settles it. Oliver?" Kyla stated, looking pointedly at her son.

Oliver looked at his mother. He could tell she was up to something, but he wasn't sure what. He looked up at Hermione, who still had the sparkle and hope blazing in her eyes. He really was outgunned here, and he wasn't sure if he liked it.

"How does Thursday sound?" Oliver said with a sigh.

* * *

A/N: I am sorry for the short chapter. I am really getting into the details of the next few chapters and this seemed a logical stopping point. I must thank all those that have read. I am so thrilled that you all like my story. 

Shout out to my reviewers!

Atomic Elf, vagrantben, Kari-Hermione, mandy g, Lily Evans Potter Black Lupin (can you imagine her stationary!), Lioness96, world-below, Gaby B, YoursAlwayS, and lazyllama101. Your reviews have given me such drive and help me to push on, even on the hard days. Thx, again.


	17. Chapter 17

Once Hermione had returned to work, she informed Evan of the status of the research and the need to travel north to Scotland before she continued on to Bulgaria. Being aware of the Wood Collection himself, Evan assured her that any arrangements for someone to take care of things while she was gone had already been taken care of.

Hermione spoke with her mother as well explaining that she would be out of town for a couple days. Mrs. Granger was thrilled that Hermione was getting out of the office, but cautioned her to take care and not work too hard. They made arrangements to speak again when she returned.

'One more stop and then I can finally set to packing,' Hermione thought. This one would prove to be a bit more difficult.

As she knocked on the door, Hermione automatically checked her hair and clothing. It was a habit, one born of knocking on many doors when she would study abroad and speak with important educators.

Chaos could be heard from inside as the door opened.

"Mione!" Ginny said with surprise, pulling Hermione into a hug.

"Hi, Gin. Sounds like you have a right party going on," Hermione said, as she returned the hug.

"Oh, no. Just the twins and Brittany over for a visit. They are trying to invent a new form of tag, but all they are really doing is screaming as loud as possible!" Ginny said with a grin, as they both walked into the living room.

"So I hear," Hermione said, with a shout.

"Oi! Kids! Pay attention!" Ginny hollered with the voice of her mother. Hermione hid her smile behind her hand. "Now, I want you to put those cushions back and tidy up, lunch will be in ½ hour, IF the room is returned to its normal state, starting now!"

Four children whirled around like little dervishes tidying up, while Ginny and Hermione walked into the kitchen to start lunch.

"I can't believe that worked," Hermione said, as she got the bread out.

"Ah, well, you know Weasley children, threaten to take away a meal and you get all the cooperation in the world!" Ginny said with a laugh.

"Too true," Hermione agreed. Too bad Mrs. Weasley never used that tactic to keep the older twins in line, was Hermione's thinking.

"Mum never could stand anyone to go hungry, so it would have never worked with Fred and George," Ginny stated, almost reading Hermione's mind.

Hermione just looked at her and smiled. How Ginny could know what she was thinking, she never knew.

"Let me go check on them," Ginny said, asking Hermione to get the juices ready.

Hermione prepared the rest of the table and placed the last juice down, as the invasion began. Four children ran in and sat down quickly.

Hermione walked over to Chelsea and placed a kiss on her head. "How is my angel today?" she asked.

"Fime, An Miney," Chelsea replied around her sandwich. Ginny gave her a hard look and Chelsea swallowed hard. "Fine, Aunt Mione," she said, her mouth clear.

Ginny smiled and began to eat her lunch. Hermione settled in a chair and enjoyed the company. This was a rarity and she made certain to appreciate it.

Once all the little ones had finished and taken their plates to the sink, they asked if they could go out and play. Ginny gave them the okay and three children vanished. Chelsea came over and gave Hermione a hug.

"I am so glad you came over for lunch today," Chelsea said. "Are you going to be here for long?"

"I'm sorry, love, I have to go back home to pack," Hermione answered.

"Pack?" Ginny and Chelsea said at the same time.

"Yes, I have a trip to take for work, and I came to see you and your mom before I left."

"Oh," Chelsea said. She looked down and said quietly, "Will you be gone long?"

"No, love. Only a few days, but I do have to go off again once I come back and catch up on my work," Hermione said. She lifted Chelsea's chin with her fingertips. "I promise to bring you back something wonderful from Scotland, okay?"

Chelsea's eyes brightened. "Scotland? I love it there! Uncle Ron told me all about it. That is where Hogwarts is, right?"

"Yes dear, now go out and play with the others," Ginny said with a smile.

"Okay. Have a nice time, Aunt Mione and I would like some rocks from the Highlands, to add to my collection," Chelsea stated with a firm nod.

Hermione smiled and laughed, saying "Absolutely. I will find you the best rocks to study, okay?"

Chelsea hugged her again and was gone before Hermione could even blink.

"My word, is she only 5?" Hermione asked, accepting a cup of tea from Ginny.

"Yes, and I can only imagine what she will be like, once she is to attend Hogwarts," Ginny said. "So, Scotland, hmm? What is there?"

"I need to do some research on a book I am working on. Most of the information is located in Bulgaria, but some is located in Scotland, so I have arranged to examine it with the owners of the collection," Hermione said, deliberately avoiding naming names.

"I see," Ginny said. "And whose collection is it?"

"Ginny," Hermione pleaded. "You know I can't divulge that kind of information."

"Hermione," Ginny said firmly. "I know when you are hiding something and when it is just work. So, please, don't patronize me."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Gin, I'm not. Look, I can only tell you that it is someone of importance in the world of ancient texts and artifacts and that is all."

Ginny grunted.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked. "The baby isn't troubling you, is he?"

"No, it is not the baby. Not every emotion is motivated by my hormones," Ginny said in a growl. "I am just worried about you. You experienced something very traumatic that you are only just coming to grips with, and I care that you may be jumping into something without thinking," Ginny said, with a bit of heat to her voice.

"Jumping in?" Hermione said. "What are you talking about? This is my work, I have been doing-"

"That is not what I meant, and you know it. I am talking about Oliver Wood," Ginny said testily.

"Oliver?" Hermione squeaked. "What about Oliver?"

"Hermione, I was there Sunday. I seen the way you two looked at each other, when you thought no one was watching," Ginny explained.

Hermione's face flushed red. "I don't know what-"

"Hermione, please. This is me. I can tell when you have something rattling around in your mind besides books," Ginny interrupted. "Also, Fred and George were hatching some scheme with the girls. You don't have to be a genius to put two and two together."

Hermione set down her cup. "He watched me?" she asked with a slight tremor in her voice.

"I knew it! What is it? What is going on?" Ginny demanded, her tea cup almost cracking under the force with what she put it down.

"Uh, well, that is where I am going. To Oliver's estate. The Wood estate actually," Hermione said, distracted. 'He was watching me.' her mind raced.

"Finally, we are getting somewhere!" Ginny exclaimed. "I repeat, what is going on?"

"Uh, honestly, Ginny, that I cannot tell you. But I will be sure to fill you in on anything I can when I return," Hermione said in a rush. She had so much to do before she left, and it was time for her to go. She also wanted to get away from Ginny's all-too-observant gaze.

"Hermione!"

"Really, Ginny. Trust me, this is what I do. I will be fine, and I will contact you once I return, okay?" Hermione asked, giving Ginny a hug around her head, before she bustled out of the house.

"Bye," Ginny said to the empty room.

* * *

Thursday morning was soon upon her, as Hermione stood in her flat, contemplating her luggage. 

"Hogwarts was always nice this time of year, but I have no idea what the weather will be like at his house," she muttered to herself.

Hermione had packed and repacked her bags three times now, and she was about to do so again, when an owl flew to her window. She retrieved the message and was able to impart a treat this time. The owl waited patiently for her response.

_Hermione_

_Travel by portkey has been arranged for 10 am. Please meet me at my place at 9:30 to prepare for our departure. I have opened my floo to allow your entrance. Just say "Oliver's house"._

_Sincerely,_

_Oliver_

"10 AM!" Hermione gasped. It was already 8:30. She had to move quickly to finish her packing, but not before she replied in the affirmative to Oliver's letter. The owl left quickly and she was soon checking all the rooms for any leftover items.

"Oh, the gall, to set up a time without consulting me," Hermione grumbled. She was not quite angry, just flustered, and took it out on the first thing that came to mind: Oliver.

Her last walkthrough complete, Hermione took her bags to the fireplace and grabbed some Floo powder. The green fire flared and she placed her bags and herself into the fireplace and said distinctly, "Oliver's house!" and with a flash she was gone.

Opening her eyes, Hermione focused on a pair of dark brown loafers.

"Are you okay?" Oliver asked, as he helped her up, a smile fighting to not develop into laughter.

"Not my most graceful entrance, I assure you," Hermione stated flatly, brushing the dust and soot from her robes. Oliver began to brush the back of her and a flush raced up her cheeks. She stepped away quickly and finished the job.

Oliver noticed nothing amiss and took her bags from the fireplace. "Is this all you have?" he asked with surprise.

"Why, yes. I didn't see any need to bring mountains of clothing as I will only be there for a few days. I am not one of those women who need fifteen different outfits for a three-day trip," Hermione said with a small sneer.

"Of course, I am just a bit surprised," Oliver noted. "Most would."

"Well, I am not like most women," Hermione said, looking around.

'Got that right,' Oliver thought to himself. He was feeling a bit out of his element and was not handling it well. He had never brought a woman back to his parent's estate before, except for his friends from school. This was a new experience and the nerves were about to drive him mad.

"Is your mother still here?" Hermione asked, bringing Oliver back to the present.

"No, she left the day after we talked. Said she needed to get the house ready for guests," Oliver shrugged.

"Ah," Hermione responded.

They both stood there awkwardly for a moment, until both were positively squirming with it.

"What time-"

"Can I get-"

They both laughed a little.

"Would you like something to drink before we leave?" Oliver asked.

"No, thank you. I can get a bit queasy when I travel, by any means really," Hermione said. "Time?"

"Uh, it is 9:20. Guess there isn't really time for that anyway," Oliver said. "Right, so here is the portkey," indicating an old shoelace.

Hermione nodded and they both arranged their luggage around them, holding onto the shoelace. A few more minutes passed with them looking anywhere but at each other.

'Mmm, she washed her hair with that shampoo again,' Oliver thought, as he caught the scent and closed his eyes.

'He looks like he needs a good night's sleep,' Hermione thought, as she looked up at him through her lashes.

"When we get there, you may want to change into something a bit warmer. It is still quite brisk in the mountains where we live," Oliver said, watching her eyes lower.

"Oh, well okay."

They both felt the familiar tug in their bellies and were on their way.

* * *

Landing on her feet was something Hermione could never get the hang of when she traveled, no matter what, except when she apparated. Even then she would get dizzy. She opened her eyes to find Oliver beneath her, smiling deviously and raising his brows. His hands were gripped tight around her waist. 

"Oh, oh my. I didn't hurt you, did I? I am so sorry, Oliver," Hermione said with a rush, as she untangled herself and stood. He shook his head. Their bags were lying haphazardly near them. She brushed her self off again and went to retrieve her trunk. Oliver just laid there for another moment, relishing the feel of her body on his.

"Are you certain you are okay?" Hermione asked in a worried tone.

"Yes, I'm fine. Taken harder hits from my sister, I assure you," he said with a grin, as he stood up easily.

"Oh really?" Hermione challenged.

Oliver just nodded as he picked up his own luggage. "The house is this way," he said as he walked towards her. He reached down to take her trunk without a word and Hermione had no choice but to follow his lead.

"Is it far?" she asked.

"No, it is just over this hill here. We live in a bit of a valley, but there is still plenty of mountain wind to make the landscape as wild as the Highlands," Oliver said, pride in every word.

"I see." Hermione replied.

The sun was diving behind clouds as they walked, causing the light to waver. The beauty surrounding them was a bit wild and overwhelming, as Hermione observed the peaks in the distance that still had snow on the tops. Rocks were strewn here and there, and as they neared the crest of the hill, Oliver's voice came back to her.

"Hold it here. I want this to be something you remember," he said, as he placed the luggage down. He walked back to her and placed his hand over her eyes.

"Oliver, what are-"

"Just trust me," he said softly in her ear. The burning sensation from his breath distracted her enough to let him take her arm and lead her forward.

"Oliver, I can't see," Hermione complained.

"Just trust me," he said again, "and be careful; follow my lead. We don't want you to break your leg before you even set foot in the house." A soft chuckle followed.

"No, that would not be good," she said breathlessly. His hands were warm on her face and arm, and his voice was doing things to her that she couldn't seem to grasp.

"Okay, are you ready?" Oliver asked deeply. His voice had changed in the last minute from excited to slightly aroused. Hermione nodded twice.

Oliver took his hand from her eyes and Hermione could only gape.

The wavering sunshine shone down on a scene out of an English romance novel. The grounds were immaculate, but in a wild way. The greens and browns of the earth were divided into pastures and groves, while the house loomed over it all with stately grace. A large landscaped garden could be seen off to the side, hedges tall and imposing, but with grace and stature. Flowers of all kinds were starting to bloom and filled the eye with a kaleidoscope of color. The manor home was older, but not ancient. Fieldstones covered the exterior, reminiscent of the mountains in color. A large front entry could be seen, along with a small fountain in the middle of the circular drive.

"Oh, Oliver," Hermione said, her voice finally returning to her. She looked up at him with her eyes bright and shining. "It is amazing."

As he looked at her face, Oliver thought that this was the reason he had never brought anyone else here. It was too special to share with just anyone. His mind, shocked at that thought, forced him to speak.

"Yes, it is. Shall we go down?" he asked gruffly.

Hermione nodded and reached for her trunk.

"No, I have that. You have to worry about navigating the terrain," Oliver insisted.

"Well, thank you," she replied. She turned back to the view and sighed as the wind lifted her hair from her face. It really was amazing. She followed Oliver's lead down to his family home.

* * *

A/N: Well. I think that I am going to have to travel to Scotland soon, because all this talk of Highlands and manor homes is making me drool. LOL 

Thank you for reading and reviewing.


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: Do we have to go thru this again? Not mine. You Know Who owns it. Not HIM! Sheesh!

* * *

"Mum! We're here!" Oliver's voice rang out, as he set their luggage down in the foyer. 

Hermione's eyes widened as she took in the entrance to the Wood home. The large wood doors they had just entered through were similar to the ones at Hogwarts, old wood that creaked when opened. The wood floors were buffed to a gleam, but looked well-used and loved. Eyes scanning around, the soft yellow walls enveloped her in a cozy feeling as her eyes fell upon the staircase. Two separate sets of stairs wound around the edges of the room up to a landing that led to a balcony of sorts and the second floor. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, gleaming in the sunshine.

"Hello there. I am so glad you arrived safely," Kyla said warmly, as she walked underneath the staircase from the back of the house. "You both are probably hungry. Why don't you show Hermione to her room and then we will meet in the kitchen for lunch?" Kyla asked, giving Oliver a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you, Kyla," Hermione responded. "I would like to freshen up a bit."

"Sounds good, Mum. Hermione?" Oliver asked, as he walked to the staircase to the left. She followed him up the stairs as Kyla went back to the kitchen. Her hands stroked the wood banister as she climbed towards the second floor. Oliver turned left as he reached the landing and led her to a door at the end of the hall.

"That one there is my parent's room," Oliver said, pointing to the left. Hermione nodded as he opened the door in front of him. He allowed her to enter in front of him, as he brought her things in.

"And this is or was my sister Ainsley's room. She lives in London now, and rarely visits," Oliver said, as he laid her trunk at the end of the bed on a chest.

Hermione looked around at the deep purple tones present. "Quite regal, isn't it?" she asked, touching a heavy velvet drape at the window.

"Well, it is kind of a joke with us all. She was very into this color as a young girl and my mother told her if she chose this for her room, it would have to stay," Oliver said with a laugh. "Once Ains reached adulthood, she begged my mother to change it, but it was a very stubborn old charm. She soon went off to further her education, and it has stayed this way since."

Hermione nodded as he related this, walking about the room and ending up at the bed. It was a massive four-poster with two-tone bedding. Golds accented the room and the bedding with soft cushions and pillows.

Oliver shuffled from one foot to the other. "Uh, you will want to know where the bath is," he said, his hands in his pockets. Hermione smiled and followed him out into the hall. He picked up his trunk from the landing and crossed to the right side of the balcony.

"This here is the bathroom," he said, as he opened the door to a large and elegant bath with marble floors and gold fixtures. Light poured in from a window high on the back wall over the tub.

"And, that is my room there," he stated, pointing to a door next to the bath. Hermione raised her brows.

"Right next door, eh?"

Oliver just shrugged. "Way it worked out, as it were."

They both stood there for a moment, not sure what to say or do next. Oliver cleared his throat eventually and muttered, "Well, I will just put my things away. Why don't you freshen up and I will meet you at the landing?" She nodded and turned to go to her room.

"Hermione?" Oliver said, his door slightly open.

She turned, looking at him. "It is really great having you here," he said in a low voice.

She smiled and said, "Thank you, Oliver. I am sure I will enjoy my time here very much." He nodded and entered his room.

Hermione turned back towards her doorway, muttering, "Ho, boy. What am I doing?"

After she had freshened up and combed back the damage the wind had done to her hair, Hermione met Oliver at the landing and they proceeded to the kitchen in the back of the house.

"Ah, there you two are. I hope you like soup and sandwiches, Hermione," Kyla asked, directing them to the table.

"Yes, I do," Hermione replied.

The sun shone intermittently over the tiles on the floor and the warm terracotta colors of the room brightened with each glimpse of it, as the three occupants ate and talked. Oliver and Kyla discussed the surrounding area with Hermione, relating anecdotes from his childhood there, sometimes to his embarrassment.

"Ask me about the time he got lost on his broom and we had a search party looking for half a day," Kyla said, her eyes gleaming with humor and love towards her son.

"Mum! Please! I am sure she has heard enough of the Wood family history to last a lifetime," Oliver said, his voice pleading.

Hermione laughed and said, "I will be sure to mention it sometime when he isn't around," she teased. Oliver looked at her and scowled. Hermione just wrinkled her nose at him.

"Oh, I knew I liked you right from the start, Hermione," Kyla said with affection, as she began to clear the table.

"Let me help you with that, Kyla," Hermione said, rising from her chair.

"Oh, no. You are a guest, Hermione. Oliver, stop sulking and show Hermione the rest of the house," Kyla said as she went to the sink.

Oliver unfolded his large frame from the table and stretched his arms up towards the ceiling. His dark sweater rose a bit and revealed his toned stomach, with a touch of hair leading into his waistband. Hermione flushed a little as her eyes caught this and looked out the window quickly.

Oliver held his hand out to her and said, "My lady."

Hermione rolled her eyes and, taking his hand, allowed him to show her to the other parts of the house. They walked through a small morning room, with a couch, desk and two small chairs situated around one of the front windows. It was decorated in light blues with white furniture.

"This here is where Mum conducts the 'business' of the house, as she puts it." Hermione adored the brightness of the room, and concluded that she would enjoy such a place in her own home.

"This is the official parlor," he explained, leading her through a room with soft orange tones and peach walls that looked like they were covered in satin fabric. "My grandmother actually decorated this room. My mum never saw any reason to change it."

They reentered the foyer and Hermione was struck again by the cozy feeling she had when they first entered. Walking beneath the staircase and turning right, they came upon the family room, with two large brown couches situated around the fireplace.

"We always spent our time in here as a family," he said, looking out the windows to the garden. "Christmas just isn't the same unless it is spent here."

"Do you come back here every year?" Hermione asked. Her eyes were glancing around the room and caught at the family portrait over the fireplace. She walked towards it slowly.

Oliver was still looking out the window as he replied, "I miss as few as possible." He turned to see Hermione looking very intently above the fireplace.

"Is that your father?" she asked.

Oliver walked over and stood beside her, looking up at the picture.

"Yes, that is my dad," Oliver said quietly. It still hurt, after all these years. "He died a couple years after I signed with Puddlemere."

Hermione looked at Oliver quickly then returned her gaze to the portrait. A smiling family of four looked at her happily. His father looked at them with pride and strength in his face, much like Oliver looked now. His mother's eyes exuded love and a touch of mischief. Ainsley, not much different looking from their mother, was smiling with a hint of laughter in her face. Oliver looked boyishly handsome, with a fire in his eyes, much like when he won a Quidditch match back at Hogwarts. "This was done while you were at Hogwarts, wasn't it?' she asked.

"Yes, how did you know?" Oliver asked, looking down at her.

"Well, you look like you did when you would win a match," she said, a smile on her face.

"You remember that?" he asked incredulously.

"Oh, yes. We were all happy on those days. Gryffindor Common Room was so much more peaceful after you won, than after a loss," Hermione teased.

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Goodness, woman, was I that bad?" he asked, walking back to the hall.

"Well, you were definitely focused, put it that way," she said. "Now, where does that door lead?" She pointed to a door off to the left of the hall.

"Ah, well, that is what you have come here for," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I present, the library." He opened the door with a flourish. Hermione walked in and almost fell to her knees in awe.

The light in this room was spare, but not much was needed to allow Hermione to rest her gaze on her heart's desire. The shelves rose practically to the roof on three sides of the room. Almost every space was occupied by a different book. She imagined the tomes whispered to her and she could have cried in reverence for the beauty of this sound.

Oliver watched the different emotions crossing her face and his heart swelled. He loved the idea that she was pleased with this room. It held a special place in his heart, as this was where he and his father spent most of their time together, when they weren't outside practicing Quidditch together. His eyes followed Hermione around the room as she lovingly touched the shelves and tables.

'All this, here. Why would he ever leave?' she wondered, as she walked to a desk near the front window of the room. Her eyes gazed over it and observed it looked a bit unused. No papers were lying about, and the quills were laying flat instead of poised in their holders.

She turned to Oliver as he walked up behind her. "Your father's, I assume?" she asked quietly. He nodded, making no sound as he twirled the small round paperweight on the desk.

Hermione placed her hand on his arm and looked up at him. His eyes were clouded with memories and Hermione thought she had never seen anything so wondrous as Oliver Wood. He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. Her eyes swept down as he walked over to the window, leaving her at the desk.

She rotated slightly to look at the back wall of the library, as yet gone unnoticed. It was dark, because of the huge loft that extended over it. On the second floor, several small cabinets held other items, along with bookshelves almost completely filled. She could make out two chairs situated near the old wood railing, bracketing a table.

Oliver was still looking out the window when Hermione asked, "Is this all?"

He turned and seen a smile on her face. Oliver grinned back. "Is this all?" he repeated, 'What more do you want?"

Hermione's smile faltered. She immediately put her hand to her face and stifled a yawn. Her face flushed crimson as Oliver laughed out loud at her expression. "Aye, a nap might not be such a bad idea. C'mon."

* * *

Oliver lay on his bed, contemplating the events of the day. It was always hard to be back here, because so much of his father permeated the house. His was a happy childhood, but the sorrow of losing his father still knocked him back. He focused on why he was even there, and smiled. 

Every single time he had begun to dwell on sad thoughts of his father today, Hermione pulled him from his memories with grace and humor. Her ability to read his feelings was a bit surprising, to him at least. He had never known anyone to be able to do that besides his mother or his sister. "Or maybe no one ever cared to look close enough,' he thought begrudgingly. That wasn't true of course. His close friends knew when he was falling into a depressed state and would fight it with humor as well. Oliver had never realized this before and a new appreciation for those close to him was felt.

'What is she doing to me?' he thought. This was not the first time he had come to a startling conclusion begun by thinking of Hermione. He felt a deep sense of contentment thinking of her sleeping down the hall, and finally closed his eyes to rest.

* * *

Her eyes still closed, Hermione stretched like a cat. The comfortable bed had caused her fall asleep as soon as she fell on it and she slept very peacefully. 'Hmm,' her mind sighed. 

Hermione's eyes flashed open as she sat straight up. She looked around at the room, seeing the purple and panicking slightly. Her mind caught up with her location and she remembered where she was. Her racing heart slowed a bit as she brought her feet to the floor. 'Oh, that was a bit of a shock,' she thought as she stood there getting her bearings.

A knock sounded at the door and her heart raced again. She walked over as she tried to smooth her hair and opened the door.

"Oliver, hello," she said, as she let him in.

"Hello, I hope you enjoyed your nap," he asked, taking in her tousled hair. She was fidgeting with it as she walked to the trunk to remove her toiletries.

"Yes, I did, thank you. Did you manage to get any sleep?" she asked, trying to find her brush.

"Yes, a little. I am not quite as used to this mountain air as I used to be," he said, handing her the brush lying on the table next to the bed.

Hermione smiled her thanks and proceeded to remove the tangles from her hair, walking over to the long gilded mirror next to the windows. She was so concentrated on it that she didn't notice Oliver staring at her from behind.

Oliver was almost in a trance watching her brush her long brown curls with firm strokes. The tangles gone, the dark mass shimmered invitingly and his hands clutched into fists after he thrust them in his pockets. She pulled it up into a messy bun, exposing her neck.

Turning around, Hermione thought she saw him glance away quickly. She placed the brush back in her toiletry kit as he cleared his throat.

"Um, I thought you may like to examine a bit of the library some more before dinner."

Hermione's eyes lit up and she replied, "Oh, yes. That would be wonderful." She quickly found her tote and led the way to the door. Oliver looked back at the place she had occupied in front of the mirror.

"Oliver?" Hermione asked from the door.

"Right," he replied, his hands still clutched in his pockets.

* * *

The sun was just setting when they had finished dinner. Hermione was anxious to get back to the library, but Oliver persuaded her to walk with him outside before it was completely dark. 

"I wanted to thank you for earlier today," Oliver started, walking through the gardens. His hands were shoved in his pockets as he looked out across the landscape as he walked.

Hermione had her warm cloak on, but still felt the wind push through as they reached the end of the path. Out in front of her was the rawest beauty she had seen in many years. The land stood for many years before them and would stand for many more after them. It was a humbling thought for anyone. They stood there in silence.

"I didn't do anything," Hermione replied at last. Oliver looked at her, slightly confused. His eyes closed and then he smiled.

"Well, it meant something to me. I appreciated it greatly."

"Well, you are welcome," she said quietly. Her eyes focused back on the effects of the wind on the fields beyond. The tall grass was waving gracefully. Hermione let out a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Hearing her sigh, Oliver looked over at her as her lashes hit her cheeks. The wind blew her hair around her and she absently tucked it behind her ear. A shudder shook her small shoulders and he blinked. It had gotten cool quickly, but he didn't feel it. His blood raced through him, warming every inch of his body.

"Why don't we head in? There is a storm headed this way and they come down quickly from the mountains," Oliver said.

She opened her eyes and focusing on his face, nodded. As much as she adored storms, it was getting colder and she preferred to watch them from inside. They walked back in silence, but it was a comfortable silence. As they reached the door to go inside, thunder rolled over the mountains. Hermione walked ahead of Oliver towards the library. They still had a lot of work to do.

* * *

The storm raged over the Highlands and battered the Wood Estate unmercifully throughout the night. Hermione woke to find her bed shaking slightly in the dark of early morning. Stretching as she got out of bed, Hermione was glad she had packed warmer clothing; she quickly dressed and headed downstairs to the kitchen. 

Sitting at the table drinking her tea, Hermione watched the storm wind itself down, finally. She lifted her feet to rest on the chair. The land freshly washed by the rain sparkled as the sun began to rise in the east. She was quietly enjoying this sight when she heard shuffling behind her.

"For heavens sake, Mione, what are you doing up this early?" Oliver said with a sleepy voice. He yawned widely as he reached the chair opposite her.

She just shrugged. "I've always been an early riser."

Oliver just nodded as he rested his head on his hand, looking out the doors to the sky. "Storm finally gone, aye?"

"Mm-hmm. Would you like some tea?" she asked.

"That would be lovely, lass," Oliver said sleepily, his head falling off his hand. Hermione smiled.

"Why don't you go back to bed? You don't need to be up for me to conduct research," she said quietly as she handed him a strong dose of caffeine.

Oliver yawned again. "I'm up now," he said as he sipped his tea.

Hermione sat back down and raising her feet once again, looked outside. Her eyes occasionally traveled to Oliver, who was fighting to stay awake. Eyes closed, his head slipped off his hand again. She smiled into her tea and thought how adorable he looked in the morning, his stubble darkening the smooth planes of his jaw.

Resting his head back on his hand, Oliver opened his eyes to find Hermione watching him. "What?" he said.

"Nothing," she replied, the small smile still in place.

* * *

A/N: so there it is. I am working diligently on the next few chapters, and I am sorry if this is dragging. I am trying hard to keep the tone and still have it be interesting. OH JKR, I so totally get why it took you 13 years to finish HP. Thanx to all, read and review. 


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: Heeeere's the next chapter! Applause, Applause!

* * *

Despite the early hour, Oliver helped Hermione a great deal that morning. Locating the particular tomes she needed to examine would have taken her days in the Wood's large library. Oliver found two of them quickly and she set to work, while he located the third. 

Oliver had cleaned off his father's desk for Hermione to use the evening before, and it was here she found herself reading the first of the two texts. Unfortunately, she was not having any luck locating the necessary information. Two hours passed before she lifted her head to stretch her sore neck muscles.

Hermione blinked several times as she stretched. Her eyes focused on Oliver standing in front of one of the windows, an open book in his hands.

"Having any luck?" she asked.

Oliver shook his head. "I know where I think it should be, but so far, nothing." He put the closed book on the shelf. "Time for a break, aye?"

Hermione smiled at him gratefully and nodded. "I could use something to tide me over until lunch. How are you at tea and biscuits?"

Oliver shrugged. "I am sure I could scare something up. I'll be right back." His reply was met with a nod and Hermione's face disappeared into the book again.

As he walked to the kitchen, Oliver thought back on the morning in contrast to yesterday. He was not experiencing the pain of his father's memory as strongly, for some reason. Having a focus was a large factor, but he was starting to suspect that it had something to do with the company. Having her in his house was beginning to feel quite comfortable, a complete contrast to the pure, almost violent, reaction he experienced at his place outside of London when she mentioned wanting to examine the Wood Collection.

As he prepared the tray, he thought on her attempts to soothe him yesterday. Again, struck by her caring and generous nature, despite her motivation for being at the estate, he wondered how she managed to be so filled with passion _and_ compassion at the same time. 'Just another one of the many mysteries about Miss Hermione Granger,' he thought, as he walked back to the library.

He approached the desk to find her writing furiously. Her quill scratching across the parchment stopped abruptly as she referenced the book in front of her again.

"Find something?" Oliver asked, as he set a cup of tea on the side of the desk.

Hermione looked up at him with shining eyes. "Yes, I did. See these words here?" she asked pointing to a small line of words. Oliver tried to read it but it was obviously foreign.

He looked at her as she wrote something else. "Well, it is Latin, '_Lacuna Sapiens Magus_', but I think the translation is roughly, 'Words of Wise Wizard', she said as she sat back, and her fingers began tapping her lips.

"What is this other line here?" Oliver asked, pointing below the one she had just translated. "_Zamia ab aevum_" he said slowly. Hermione leaned forward, her eyes following his finger across the page.

"Loss of age?" she said out loud, looking across the room absently. Oliver was leaning over the desk on his hands. He could see her thoughts in her eyes as she tried to decipher the meaning of the two phrases. Her eyes squinted as her jaw began to clench.

"Hermione?" he asked, brushing an errant strand of hair behind her ear. She leapt back into the chair.

She blinked and looked at him from somewhere far away. As she shook her head and reached forward to look at the book once again, Oliver wondered where she had gone just then. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

"Yes. I'm fine." She blew a harsh breath out. "Okay, so we have a title of a book that is supposedly the 'loss of age'. Now, that could mean the actual loss of age, such as a person's age. Or, it could mean the loss of age, meaning time."

"Could it possibly mean the loss of _the_ age? Such as losing something vital?" Oliver asked, looking at Hermione. Her eyes lit up.

"Of course," she muttered. "If you put those two statements together, it would point to 'Words of Wise Wizard' as being a loss of the ages." Hermione began to write furiously again. Oliver watched her write additional notes as to the translations and page numbers of the text, and he settled in a chair next to the desk to drink his tea. After she finished writing, Hermione reached for the cup he had poured her and muttered a warming spell. She sat back with her tea and drank slowly. Her thoughts were drifting again as her eyes became unfocused.

Oliver cleared his throat. "Uh, Mione? Does this help with my book at all?" he asked, trying to draw her back from wherever she was disappearing to.

"Well, not particularly. But it does help verify that the other book I mentioned before is also referenced here," she said distantly. Hermione set her cup down and rose from the desk, stretching her legs and back. She closed the book in front of her and put it off to the side. "I'll be right back."

Oliver sat there drinking his tea, pondering what would distract her so. A few moments later, she returned with his mystery text in her hands.

Lying it down gently on the desk, she sat in her chair. Her eyes observed Oliver watching her closely and she cleared her throat.

"Do you think you could find the Gaelic writing in this again?" Hermione asked carefully.

Oliver set down his cup and stood to walk around to her side of the desk. He hefted the large book easily and allowed it open to a random page. As he turned several pages, the hand holding the bottom of the book gripped it tightly as the pages began to move of their own volition. He smiled as the pages stopped moving and set the book down again.

"There," he said, pointing to the ancient Gaelic lettering near the middle of the page. Hermione sat forward and read the passage. Or at least she tried to. Unfortunately, Gaelic was not one of the languages she was fluent in.

She looked at Oliver and he grinned. "Ah, it says, '_dearg an aghaidh geal_'. Or in English, 'red against white'. There is another passage below it here," he said pointing lower down the page, "that states '_boireannach oibair airson firinn _'. That I would have to talk to my mum about. I know that _firinn_ means 'truth', but that is about it." His accent was melodious speaking the ancient language of the Highlands.

Hermione wrote all this down as he spoke, trying to calm her thumping heart. As she listened to his voice flowing over the last phrase, her heart began to beat abnormally hard and fast. As she finished, she reached to turn the page in Oliver's book and immediately found herself looking at the last page. Both quickly bent their heads to look at the only line written there.

'_Ceart gradh cha dona, Ian aseugmhais ceann_'

"Love?" Oliver said, looking at Hermione. Her brows rose in question as he said the word. "Love?" she asked.

"_Gradh_ means love in Gaelic," he said slowly. Oliver stood up straight and walked back to his chair to sit down, as Hermione's eyes followed him. He steepled his hands in front of his face, thinking. Looking back at the book, she began to copy the passage, along with the words they had deciphered so far.

After setting down her quill, Hermione looked up to ask Oliver if he could go ask his mother about the translations, only to find he had left the room.

* * *

Oliver found his mother in the gardens, tending her flowers. 

"Mum?" he called, walking towards her.

"Yes, dear," she replied, setting back on her heels.

Oliver took in her appearance. She was wearing some older clothes and a pair of well-worn gloves, covered in dirt. He smiled as he asked, "Why don't you use magic to do that?"

Kyla laughed floated on the fresh summer breeze. "Because, there is nothing more therapeutic for my soul than digging in the earth. To bring something to life with my tender loving care gives me great pleasure. Now, you didn't come out here to ask me about my gardening techniques. What is it?" she asked, raising her hand to him.

Oliver helped her stand, brushing the dirt off his hands after. "Well, we may have found something in my book, but I am not sure what it says. It is in the old Gaelic."

Kyla's eyes brightened. "That is wonderful! And, what do you mean, you're not sure? You lived here too. You know the language of the Highlands very well," she scolded with a smile.

"Well, I haven't read or spoke it in so long, I certainly don't want to make a mistake," Oliver replied sheepishly, kicking a stone with his foot. His mum could make him feel like he was 8 years old again too easily.

"Oh, Oliver, how you make me smile!" she said with a grin and hugged him. His arms wrapped around her tightly and he lifted her into the air, spinning slowly. She laughed while demanding he put her down before he hurt his back. He set her down easily, his sparkling eyes mirroring hers.

Hermione watched them from the kitchen, one hand over her heart, the other wrapped around her small waist. Seeing them like that warmed her to the core, and she wasn't sure why. She focused on the two people walking towards the house and stepped back to the counter, quickly finishing the tea she originally came in to prepare.

Once Kyla removed her shoes and gloves, the two Woods walked into the kitchen smiling, arms wrapped around the other's waists.

"Good morning, Hermione," Kyla said, relinquishing her son to walk over and squeeze Hermione's shoulders. Hermione turned and smiled as she replied, "Good morning."

"I hear you have gotten a lead on your research," Kyla began, walking to the fridge to remove a bottle of water.

"Yes, it is a very good lead. The translations will be a bit tough, but Oliver mentioned that you might be able to help with that," Hermione stated, as she took a drink of tea.

Kyla set her water on the counter. "Yes, I may. Just let me get started on lunch, and then I can join you," Kyla requested, taking some ingredients from the cupboard.

"Mum, why don't you let me do that?" Oliver asked, walking over to his mother. "I will let you know when it is ready."

"Oh, okay dear. Thank you," Kyla said, patting him on his shoulder. Hermione smiled her thanks to him as well, as she and Kyla left the kitchen. He nodded and began to prepare their lunch.

* * *

As they walked to the library, Kyla asked Hermione if she slept okay last night. 

"Yes, the room is very comfortable. I awoke feeling very refreshed this morning," Hermione said, laughing suddenly at the memory of Oliver trying so hard to stay awake.

"What is it?" Kyla asked. Hermione relayed the events of that morning and Kyla was soon chuckling herself. "No, Oliver is not one to get up early, except by force or threat. I hope he isn't being a distraction from your work?"

"Oh, no he is being very helpful. His ability to locate the texts we need saves me a lot of time," Hermione defended.

"Good," Kyla said as they entered the library. "He can tend to act outrageously when he comes here, always making jokes and being openly silly with me or other guests. I suppose it is how he copes with his father's memory," she finished with a sigh.

Hermione settled down behind the desk and set her folded hands on top of her parchments. "If I may ask, how did he die?"

"To be totally honest, no one really knows. He was found just beyond the estate by one of the neighbors. There were no marks, no sign of struggle. His belongings were still on him, as was his wand. I'm certain you know what a Killing Curse looks like?" she asked. Hermione nodded quickly.

"Well, there was no sign of that either. It is to this day, still a mystery. I can only hope that it was quick and painless, for my darling Kenneth's sake," Kyla finished.

Hermione sat quietly as Kyla traveled back into her memories. Blinking a few times, she looked up and asked, "Are you close to your parents, dear?"

"Yes. I am muggle-born, so while they may not understand the magical world, they are very supportive of most of my endeavors," Hermione said, a smile on her face as she thought again how her mother fussed over her. "My mother is slightly over-protective, but I remind myself it is just because she loves me."

"Aye, yes. It is always a mother's prerogative to worry over her brood. I am certain Oliver will be okay in time. I only hope he doesn't miss out on all the wonderful things life has to offer."

Hermione smiled. Kyla's love for her son was almost tangible and inspired her to want that for herself when she had children. Hermione's eyes felt prickly and she knew that she needed to think on something else before the tidal wave crashed over her.

Kyla walked over to the desk. "So, shall we get to work?" she asked, seeing the shift behind Hermione's eyes.

Hermione nodded and showed her the excerpts she had copied down.

"I see," Kyla said as she read Hermione's neat penmanship. "Well, this one here," she said, pointing to the one Oliver had already translated, "is red against white, yes. This here is a bit more difficult." She studied it, sounding out the words silently. "_Boireannach_ means 'woman', and '_oibair_' means work or works. Translated, it could say 'Woman work or works for truth'."

Hermione wrote these down as Kyla translated each one. Her lilting voice was almost as magical as Oliver's, but without the resulting rapid heartbeat. 'That is odd,' she thought.

"Okay," Kyla continued. "This one here, why this is a beautiful quote. It means 'Right love not wrong, complete without end'."

"Right love not wrong, complete without end?" Hermione said out loud as she copied the words. "What could that mean?"

"I have my own theory, my dear; but it still is a powerful phrase," Kyla said wistfully.

"How so?" Hermione asked.

"Well, dear, how many people find the right love? Nowadays, many settle for what they _think_ is the right love, much too quickly sometimes," Kyla said as she sat down. "Right love, true love, will be there in thirty, or even fifty, years, even more so than in the first year. Passion may rule the day, but right love, true love; that will last for eternity; hence the words, 'without end'."

"Can you read this here?" Hermione asked, showing Kyla the front title page.

"Textus Merlinus Caledonensis? Why, that says literally, 'Words Merlin Caledonian', or correctly, 'Merlin Caledonian's Word'. This is a book of the words of Merlin?" Kyla asked incredulously. The import of the name had sunk in.

Hermione shrugged. "It may be. I am not certain yet, which is the reason for this whole verification process."

"Oh, my dear. To find something of such monumental value would be-"

"The discovery of all time," Oliver finished, his arms across his broad chest. He was leaning against the doorjamb to the foyer, looking at his feet.

Kyla and Hermione looked to the door and watched him walk into the room.

"Dear, do you understand what this book could mean?" Kyla asked.

"Yes, Mum. Finally, Merlin's teachings would be available to study and learn."

"Do you think it is wise to have this book here?" she asked with a note of fear.

"Mum, no one but you, me, Hermione, and Evan, her boss, knows that I own it. Well, except for where I purchased it. But I paid in muggle money, so there is no trail to be found there," Oliver finished, his hands rubbing Kyla's upper arms soothingly.

Hermione stood up and asked a bit loudly, "Excuse me, but why would it be a problem to have this book here?"

Kyla and Oliver turned to look at her.

"Um, listen. Lunch is ready, so why don't we eat?" Oliver said, trying to distract Hermione feebly. He knew it wouldn't work when her eyes flashed.

"Oliver," she said, "I deserve to know what you are both so obviously worried about. If our safety is at risk, then I demand to know." Her volume had risen to a forceful level.

"Mum, would you excuse us please? We will be right behind you," Oliver said, kissing her on the forehead. Kyla looked back on the two of them squaring off across the desk as she closed the door to the foyer.

Hermione stood with her arms crossed over her chest. She glared at Oliver as he looked back at her with equal fire.

"Oliver, I really think-" she began, ready to give him a piece of her ample mind.

"Hermione!" Oliver said forcefully, causing her to jump. He took a deep breath. With a slightly calmer voice, he said "Please, sit down and I will explain it all to you."

* * *

A/N: And that is that. For now. HA I will accept your thrown mice and keyboards gratefully, as I know that is what I would be doing if someone stopped in the middle like that! I also would like you to know that all Gaelic and Latin words in this and future chapters were found atthe website on my profile page. A wonderful tool for any language they list. Try it! 

Read and Review, and thank you for all your support! I must go cry now, as my driver just went to the garage with a blown motor! BOO HOO!


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: Just to warn you, it gets a bit racy in this one! (FINALLY!) LOL

* * *

Hermione flopped down in the chair behind the desk with very little grace and huffed. There was nothing she hated more than _not_ knowing something. It was the driving force behind her every action these days. Knowledge was what gave her the edge. It got her through the war. It pulled her through the miscarriage and after. Without her knowledge, she was just like everyone else, defenseless. Her mind focused back on Oliver, who had begun to pace.

"Hermione, when I first objected to this trip here, there was more behind it than just a need for privacy," Oliver said. He ran his hand through his hair roughly. "In the past, we have received many requests for our 'collection', and almost as many threats."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Threats?"

"Yes, threats. Threats to our home, our family, everything we hold dear. Knowing this, I was very reluctant to bring you here," he added. Looking at her with an agitated glance, remembering how her and his mother had ganged up on him.

"But, Oliver, who would threaten to take this?" Hermione asked, standing quickly. "This book, that no one seems to know, or even care about." Her hand indicated the text.

"Hermione, I don't know. I only know that if it got out that we _may_ have a book that _may_ have at one time belonged to Merlin, the greatest wizard ever known; well, the interested parties could circle the globe many times," Oliver said, stopping to look her square in the eyes. "That is why I am so concerned. What if someone with a dark purpose were to want this book? What do you think they would do to try to get it?"

Hermione's jaw clenched, as she recalled just what could happen if someone wanted something valuable. Recalled when Death Eaters roamed the world, destroying all they could lay siege to. She fell to her seat, realizing how destroyed things had been, and how dangerous their situation really was.

"Oliver? What are we going to do?" she asked firmly, following him with her eyes. He had resumed his pacing. "Oliver!"

He stopped and looked at her. "What are we going to do?" she asked again.

"We?"

"Yes, _we_. What are _we_, meaning you and I, going to do about this?" she asked, the fire coming up in her eyes again. 'Oi, men can be so dense sometimes!' she yelled inside her head.

Oliver's eyes softened. "Hermione, there isn't much more we can do. We could hide the book for another couple thousand years, but that will not prevent the greed of others from continuing. It may never be truly safe to bring it out into the open."

"But, we aren't going to do that are we?" Hermione said, her eyes wide, interrupting his speech. "Hide the book? Oliver, please, tell me you are joking?"

"I wasn't. But I can see now that it would solve nothing to do so. All I can think to do at this point is continue on, telling no one of this possible link to Merlin, and determine if it is true or not," he finished, resting his hands on the front of the desk. "Hermione?"

She looked at him, the fire dying down slowly. Her fear of losing another book to the dusty annals of time was placated for now.

"Promise me you won't divulge what we have so far discovered, and what we may suspect to be the truth about this book?" Oliver asked, every line of his body tense.

Hermione nodded softly. After seeing the reaction of his mother to the supposed danger, and the idea of others trying to take the book from them, it was the least she would do.

Oliver relaxed, and said, "Now, why don't we go eat our lunch?"

* * *

Hermione walked down a small path that was slightly overgrown with long grass, but easy to follow. As she came around the back of the house, the sun shone down on her with a stark brightness. She shaded her eyes to look out over the gardens. Bright colors again caught her eyes and she smiled. This garden, it was Kyla's sanctuary, as Hermione returned the wave from Kyla at the other end. She was pleased that Oliver's mother had been able to get past that unfortunate scene in the library. No one said anymore about it at lunch and she was grateful. Hermione hated to show such emotion in front of anyone, least of all someone as important to Oliver as his mother. 

A tantalizing scent on a draft of breeze wound around Hermione and she closed her eyes. Relaxing, soothing, and very strong. It reminded her of the shampoo she used. Her eyes opened as she looked around, finding the pasture full of lavender to her right. It was hidden behind an average sized hedge with a small opening in the center. Hermione walked over to find it in almost full bloom.

She looked over her shoulder to the second floor windows open to the summer air and grinned. 'So, that is how he knew,' she thought. Hermione sighed deeply and continued on her walk.

Oliver watched Hermione from the kitchen while he prepared the potatoes for dinner. He had disliked being so forceful with her. Her spirit was something fragile, he could see that when he looked in her eyes. He didn't want to damage her desire to know the truth, but he definitely didn't want her leaping into this not knowing the dangers either. He shut off the water and watched her walk over to his mother. They both smiled and he let out the breath he didn't know he was holding. The scene in the library was not something he wished to repeat, ever. He was just thankful his mother had left before things got too bad. Why his mother's good opinion of Hermione mattered so much to him, he was still trying to figure out. But it did, and that was all he knew at the moment. He turned the water on again as the two women walked into the kitchen.

"So, what is on the menu for this evening, dear?" Kyla asked, setting down her gardening tools on the table.

"A roast, with potatoes, carrots, and onions," Oliver replied, setting the now-clean potatoes on the drainer. "Will that do?"

"Most certainly, my dear. I love it when you cook for me," she said with a wink. Oliver rolled his eyes.

"Is there anything I can do?" Hermione asked, leaning over the counter.

"Well, not now. But, once it is finished, you could sit down and enjoy it," Oliver said with a wink.

Now it was her turn to roll her eyes. "Honestly, Oliver. Will you at least let me set the table?"

"Sure, I always hated that job," Oliver smirked.

"Oliver!" Kyla shouted, slapping him on his leg with the hand towel.

"Ow, Mum, that hurt! Watch, I'll have a bruise there now!" Oliver whined unconvincingly.

"Oh really, you big baby!" Kyla teased. "Want me to kiss it?"

"MUM!" Oliver yelled, as Hermione burst into laughter.

Soon, two other peals of laughter joined her and the tension of the morning had fully lifted from the Wood home.

* * *

Hermione tossed and turned in the darkened room. She and Oliver were not able to locate the third book yet and she had to be back to work on Monday. Her eyes opened and she stared at the ceiling. Her mind just would not rest. 'Might as well get up,' she thought grumpily. 

After she threw some pajama pants on and found her socks, she sat at the desk in the corner of the room to look over her notes for the day. Lighting the lamp, she blinked quickly to adjust her eyes to the brightness.

Hermione looked at the progress they had made earlier that day. It really was remarkable, as Scottish Gaelic was not one of the languages she was very familiar with. To be there, with Oliver and his mother, it had kept her from having to conduct more research back at her office, and she was pleased how fast things were moving. Except for the fact that neither Oliver nor his mother knew of the deep connection Hermione had to this particular book.

As her eyes fell on the 'red versus white' on her page, she again felt the heaviness descend. "It is just a coincidence," she said to the empty room. Although, the title of Oliver's book could not be a coincidence. "_Merlin Caledonian's Word"_ was vaguely connected to another translation they had uncovered today, "_Lacuna sapiens magus_", or "Words of Wise Wizard". She knew that title well. It was buried deep in her memories, from her time in Bulgaria. And that was troubling her very much.

'Is it possible,' she thought, 'that two books, roughly named the same, are connected?' Hermione's fingers tapped her lips again. Her mind was tumbling thoughts around so fast she was almost dizzy. She focused again on the words 'right love not wrong, complete without end.'

"Love," she said wryly. "Why must it always come down to that?" Hermione believed in love, for she witnessed its power firsthand. Not for herself really, but through her parents, and through Harry and Ron. When Harry defeated Voldemort, it was his love for life, love for his friends and extended family, and his deep love for Ginny that allowed him to prevail. It was the Weasley's love for each that pulled them through the war, and it was the trio's love that kept them strong enough to be able to survive at all. All that now existed, the lives everyone enjoyed, did so because of love.

A soft tap sounded at the door, and Hermione walked over to open it, checking her hair reflexively. She found Oliver standing in the hall, smirking down at her.

"Yes?" she said in a whisper, leaning on the open door.

"Couldn't sleep, aye?" Oliver asked, leaning his hands on opposite sides of the doorframe. His presence filled the entrance.

"No, so much going through my mind from today," Hermione shrugged.

"Getting anywhere with that?" he asked, walking into the room. Hermione opened her mouth to object, but realized at that moment, she really wanted to talk to him.

"Well, I'm not sure," she said, closing the door. She didn't want to wake his mother.

Oliver had already pulled a chair over to the desk and positioned it next to hers. He looked at her as he swept his hand over the seating arrangement.

"Ugh, fine," she sighed.

"So, what are you not sure about?" Oliver asked, as they both settled in the chairs.

"Well, the translations, for one."

"Why?" he asked.

"It seems like too much of a coincidence to me, the similarities are too well placed," Hermione said.

"How?"

"Well, the title. To find a Latin text named in one of your books, which closely resembles the actual title of your book, is odd," Hermione began. She could safely tell him a few things, since he already knew about them. It would not violate any charm she had been placed under.

"Okay. But other titles are cross-referenced all the time, correct?" he asked.

"Yes, but not one that no one would have any knowledge of. The other translation, 'loss of age' relates to that as well. It is just very disconcerting," she finished, rubbing her neck absently. Stiff neck muscles were a common occurrence when she conducted research.

Oliver watched her knead her neck muscles as a twinge of pain passed over her face. He stood up to come behind her and placed his hands over hers.

Hermione instantly stiffened. "Relax; I am only going to work out the knots, okay?" Oliver said quietly.

Hermione removed her hand and let him place his on her neck. He moved her long hair over her shoulder. The roughness of his fingers was the first sensation, followed by the gentleness of his movements. She bowed her head forward and let her eyes close. His hands were working magic on her, as her entire being began to relax.

"You are amazingly tense," Oliver said, his voice soft and deep. "Do you walk around like this all the time?"

"Mm-hmm," she replied. Warmth was traveling from his fingers down her body, as if every muscle seemed to respond to his gentle ministrations. She let out a deep breath. His hands moved to her shoulders and rubbed the warmth further into her system.

'I could fall asleep right now,' she thought, as his hands kept to a rhythm, moving farther down her back. She leaned forward, resting with her arms against the desk in front of her.

Oliver watched her practically collapse as he worked on her back. His hands moved down towards the middle, and he realized she wasn't wearing a bra. His hands twitched slightly, as he fought to find the air that quickly fled his body. He continued to rub her back in slow, agonizing circles. His body was unfortunately not cooperating with his attempts to think of other things, such as Quidditch drills and cold showers. 'She has no idea what she does to me,' he thought, as Hermione let out a quiet moan of appreciation and anything remotely resembling thought was driven from his mind. His desire was beating back his rational side, and winning.

Hermione hadn't even registered that she made a sound, but her soul was deeply aware of his hands moving over her. She was so caught up in the amazing warmth that his massage was generating; she didn't realize the small flames of her own desires coming to life. Her mind was no longer thinking. She was relaxed and content, more so than she could ever remember. His hands had moved to her lower back and her desire raged to be noticed. Her breathing was becoming slightly heavier and she felt her limbs begin to tingle.

Hermione sat up abruptly, and then stood. Her hands rested on the desk as she turned to look at Oliver with fire and fear in her eyes. All her emotions and stifled needs over the past few weeks were rising within her and she wasn't sure what would happen next. He stood looking back at her, with the same desire evident in his face and body. Her body screamed for his tantalizing touches to continue and she fought to calm the thumping of her heart, as her bottom lip slipped between her teeth.

Desire raced through Oliver's body as he moved her chair from in front of him with his foot and reached for her. Her arms instinctively moved around his neck as their lips met. Heat, instant and all-consuming, flared between them until they were both on fire.

Oliver wanted to touch her everywhere, all at once. He buried one hand in her hair while the other found the small of her back and pulled her to him. His kisses were claiming, while his hands roamed freely over her.

Hermione could feel his hands on her and she wanted to shout with satisfaction. Her body was pulled to his and she felt his arousal low against her abdomen. She pulled his head tighter to her and began to fight for dominance with his tongue. His arms wrapped around her rear and lifted her to settle her legs around his hips. Their pajamas were barely a hindrance and as his arousal met her core, she moaned and gasped, removing her lips from his.

Oliver's mouth moved to her neck, suckling and nipping, as he carried her towards the bed. Her arms were clutching around his neck, while her hands buried themselves in his hair. She pulled his head back and looked into his eyes. He closed them quickly, not wanting her be scared by what lay there. Hermione's lips fastened on his as she begged him to open his mouth with her tongue. He growled and clasped her rear, digging his fingers into her. This pulled her against him again and she cried into his mouth.

Oliver climbed onto the bed on his knees and laid Hermione back, her hair getting trapped under them as he lay between her legs. He leaned to the side to remove it and she rolled on top of him. Her hands pushed at the hem of his shirt to pull it off. He sat up slightly to help and once it was off, she put her hands on his chest to keep him down on the bed, while she sat up to pull her own top over her head. His hands roamed up her small waist to cup her now bare breasts. She tilted her head back as his hands caressed over her, her sodden pajama bottoms resting directly over his bulging ones.

One hand reached around her back and pulled her down to him, capturing her breast with his mouth. She gasped quickly and bit her lip as Oliver drew her into his mouth with his teeth again and again. She looked down, pulling his mouth to hers with strength he didn't know she possessed and kissed him deeply. His hands buried in her hair as they battled back and forth. He pulled her bottom lip into his mouth and sucked, causing Hermione to thrust her hips forward. The hand in her hair clenched, and he pulled back from her.

"M-Mione," he said his voice deep and haunting. "Look at me."

Hermione opened her eyes to see his staring intently back at her. Her breathing was coming in short bursts and she felt him throb between her thighs. She could feel his heart beating hard beneath her, their upper bodies warm from the bare contact. Her eyes were vague and her lips full from all his kisses. "Oliver?" she said in a whisper.

"Love, are you sure?" he asked. His hands were gentle as he pushed her hair away from her face. Her eyes began to clear and a chill traveled down her body. His arms wrapped around her to keep her warm as he watched the high level of passion recede from her gaze. Her eyes began to fill with tears as she rested her forehead on his cheek, gaining control of her breathing.

"Shh now," he murmured, cursing himself in his head for making her cry. "What is it? Are you afraid?" he asked, running one of his hands through her hair. "Hermione? Are you a virgin?"

Hermione popped her head up and looked down at his face, her eyes wide and her brows furrowed. She sat up quickly, covering her naked chest while reaching for her shirt. As she slid off from him, her leg brushed over his arousal and he groaned. Her eyes flew back to his face as he propped himself up on his elbows.

Hermione pulled her shirt over her head, inside out no less, and muttered, "No, Oliver. I am not a virgin. Is that a problem?" After pulling her hair out of her shirt, she glared at him from the head of the bed, her knees drawn under her.

"Um, no. I didn't say that," Oliver began, sitting up fully. He looked over at her with the unspoken question in his eyes.

"I don't normally do this," she said, pulling at an errant string at the bottom of her top. Her eyes flew to his and he nodded. "I am sure that this may come as a shock, but I am not as innocent as some may believe. I just don't jump into bed with every guy I meet."

Oliver raised his brows at this. "I didn't say that either. I am just concerned that every time I kiss you, you pull away. Even though they are some pretty incredible kisses," he said with a smile.

Hermione felt the heat race up her cheeks. "I just don't want to get confused by what we are doing here," she said, waving her hand.

"I am not at all confused, love," he said gruffly, running a hand through his hair.

Hermione felt a small smile creep over her mouth. "Still, our being in a relationship will only complicate matters, not to mention, end badly," she said, the smile dropping.

"Doesn't have to," he said simply. Hermione gave him a look that said she didn't believe him. "Really, all relationships don't end badly. Look at Harry and Ginny; I've never seen two people more in love. Most everyone of our shared acquaintance is paired with someone they love very deeply."

Hermione thought about what he said. Her mind raced as he moved up to lie next to her at the head of the bed. She reflexively pulled back.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to attack you," Oliver joked. "I want to find out what this is between us, literally and figuratively." He sat up to plump up a few pillows under him.

"What do you mean?" She asked, relaxing at his assurances.

"Well, I feel something for you. I am assuming that because you don't normally going around snogging and shagging every male you come across, you feel something for me as well," Oliver stated plainly as he lay back down, his arms behind his head. He crossed his legs at the ankles and waited.

After a few moments of trying to look everywhere but at his very developed chest, Hermione asked, "Was there in a question in there somewhere?"

He chuckled as he watched her eyes sparkle with amusement.

"What do we have between us? I like you, very much. More so than anyone I've met in a very long time," Oliver said. "You are intelligent, beautiful, caring, passionate, and a great kisser." He looked over at her waiting.

"I, uh, well, I like you too," Hermione stammered, fighting another blush. She cleared her throat. "I mean, you are very handsome, as sin I believe was the term. You care a great deal for your family, you are loyal, funny, and, um, you kiss very well, also." Oliver grinned at her. 'Are we really talking about this?' she thought to herself.

"Okay, so we have settled that we like each other, a lot. So why are things between us so difficult?"

"Well, I just don't want to get hurt," Hermione said softly. "You are Oliver Wood, celebrity. Desired by thousands of women, all over the world. What is to say you won't have your way with me and then move on to someone else?"

Oliver's eyes narrowed as she finished. He looked at her in silence. Hermione fidgeted under his gaze. She glanced at him to find herself pinned by dark brown eyes.

"I will kindly ignore the insult to my character that was in there, and simply ask how you know I would do that? If I am so loyal, and caring about family, I mean," he said gruffly, sarcasm dripping from his voice. Her eyes flared at his tone.

"Look, it happens. I know for a fact that it happens, so don't get all holier-than-thou with me. You asked, and I told you," Hermione retorted, crossing her arms over her chest.

Oliver's eyes followed her movements and he struggled to keep his desire under control. Now was not the time. His mind focused on her statement. "How do you know for a fact that it happens?"

Hermione looked at him and opened her mouth, but no sound would come. She looked away as she closed her mouth, blinking her eyes quickly.

Oliver sat up and moved closer to her, as she turned her body away from him even more, her hair falling in front of her.

"Mione? How do you know?" he whispered softly behind her. His hand reached up to pull her hair around her back and rested his hand in it lightly, feeling the shiver travel through her.

"I just do, okay," Hermione's voice quivered. 'Do not cry, you cannot cry,' she told herself.

Oliver sighed. "I really would like to be with you, Hermione. But I can't if you won't let me." His thumb was rubbing softly through her shirt. His eyes closed and he was thinking about what he really knew about her. The thought of someone hurting her deep enough to keep her from any future relationship bothered him. 'Who would be able to hurt her so?' he said to himself.

Hermione was taking in deep gulps of air sporadically to keep herself from dissolving into tears. 'Why? Why does he have to be so wonderful?' her thoughts yelled at her in her head.

As Oliver's mind searched through what he knew, he locked onto one memory. The photo. Hermione and Viktor. Together. His eyes flew open and he looked at her jerking shoulders. He placed his hand on the closest one to him and turned her slowly. As he grasped onto the other, her eyes lifted to look at him. Tears were there waiting to fall.

Oliver swallowed hard and he said softly, "Mione, does this have something to do with Viktor?"

Hermione's eyes opened wide as she pulled away. His hands still on her shoulders, Oliver closed his eyes. 'That's it,' he thought. 'Viktor Krum _hurt_ her.' He had never felt anger course through his system before like he did at this moment. His eyes opened again to see a tear coursing down Hermione's face, her eyes closed. Oliver pulled her into an embrace and she went to him, willingly.

A/N: And that is the longest chapter I have done…..so far. :D

And, just so you know, this little end scene has been floating around in my brain since the beginning. It was inspired by Crowded House's "Fall at Your Feet". Listen to it. Neil Finn is AWESOME!

To my reviewers: YOU ROCK!

TA


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: Try to understand, I am only going off from what someone else started. She knows who she is.

* * *

_Oliver pulled her into an embrace and she went to him, willingly._

Hermione felt Oliver's arms wrap around her small shoulders and she leaned into his bare chest, her hands between them. She was still fighting the tears and her breath was hitching. His hands rubbed along her back, soothing her rediscovered tension. Leaning against him, she felt his heartbeat through her cheek. Moments passed and a few tears escaped; she reached up to brush them away.

"Mione?" Oliver murmured, leaning back slightly. She lifted her head to look at his face, focusing on his chin.

Her shoulders lifted with her breathing as she fought to keep control. Her voice was very soft as she began to talk.

"It does have something to do with him," she said, her eyes dropping to focus on her fingers. "But, it also not something that I talk about, so, um, if I start to ramble, um, well, please just bear with me," she finished.

"Here," Oliver said. He reached over for the pillows on the other side of the bed and propped them closer. He sat back against them and reached for her. Instead, she moved her own pillows and sat right next to him, their shoulders touching. Her hands began to fidget again, and he took one in his, rubbing the back with his thumb, waiting patiently for her to begin.

Hermione tried to think about where to begin and what exactly she should say. 'Do I tell him everything? Will he decide not to try to be with me, if he knows all of it?' her mind raced.

"Just start at the beginning, love," Oliver said. Watching her thoughts travel through her eyes as to where to begin was difficult to see, so much pain and indecision passing over her.

Hermione cleared her throat and began to speak about her time studying abroad. She spoke about a few different schools she had visited and her scattered dating history, which was very limited. The more she talked, the more she relaxed. She was even able to laugh a little when a memory or two would surface. Oliver's deep chuckles warmed her spirit and she smiled at him.

"So, you were on your way to the Conservatory," Oliver prodded. She nodded.

"I was a bit nervous, going to Bulgaria at all," she said. "Viktor and I attended the Yule Ball in my fourth year; he was the champion for Durmstrang. We weren't really dating, per say, but we agreed to correspond through letters. This continued for another few years, until, um, the Headmaster…" Hermione stopped. That was such a sad memory, for the both of them.

"Um, right. Okay. Go on," Oliver said, clearing his throat.

Hermione took a deep breath. "Well, we hadn't spoken since then, and I wasn't sure what we would say, if, we even ran into each other. I knew he was still playing professional Quidditch, and being that I was studying most of the time, I figured the likelihood of us meeting was slim. I wasn't aware of his family's connection to the Conservatory, or his involvement."

"We met at a fundraiser. It was nice to see a familiar face and we both sat and talked most of the evening. He left for a match the next day but we did see each other on occasion. When the season finished, he came to visit me, and we began to date, unofficially. You know how that is," Hermione said, looking at Oliver's face.

He nodded. "Hidden, quiet places without prying eyes and flashbulbs. Yes, I know."

"Right," Hermione began again. She brushed her hair behind her ear and began to fidget again; running her fingertips over Oliver's roughened ones. "Well, this went on for a bit, and it became clear to me that I was developing deep feelings for him. I spent some time with his family, and while they are very nice people, the formalities were quite a bit different from what I was used to. We began to go public with our relationship and the media descended like vultures," Hermione said, slightly clenching her jaw.

"Yes, I remember seeing some very nice photos of you both in the tabloids," Oliver offered. Hermione blushed. He smiled at her obvious reaction to his slight compliment. "I also was there the day you congratulated him when his team beat ours, in Bulgaria."

Hermione looked at him, trying to remember some of the matches she had attended.

"Uh, well, I remember distinctly this beautiful woman racing up to him and jumping in his arms," Oliver said, focusing on her hand in his. He didn't see the flush that radiated from Hermione's face, as she shifted uncomfortably. "I thought I knew her, I mean, you. My teammate took the mickey out of me that day, let me tell you," he finished with a laugh.

"Um, well, yes. We were quite, um, open, at that point in the relationship," Hermione said quickly. Her lips became a thin line as she began to tell the rest of the story. "I still had my studies, which occupied a lot of my time, and he began to travel for the team, promotional things. I was very, well, I missed him very much while he was gone and it started to take its toll on both of us."

"We began to drift apart," Hermione said, taking a deep breath. This was where it became quite painful, and she still wasn't sure if she wanted to tell him about that. She sat very still, lost in the tug of war her mind and heart were engaged in. Oliver watched her eyes close off.

"Hermione, do you want to stop?" Oliver offered. "I think it is pretty obvious how things went from there."

She looked up at his eyes, seeing in the deep brown depths, his need to give her a way to leave off without relating the gory details. Her heart dropped at that point. His wanting to know didn't supersede his ability to see this was difficult for her. His thoughtfulness warmed her to her toes. "Are you for real?" she asked, looking at him with pleading eyes.

"Pardon?"

"Are you for real?" she repeated.

Oliver furrowed his brows. "Um, yes?"

Hermione blinked slowly. "What I mean is, are you really this sweet caring man who would let a woman, me, stop my tale of history with another man, just because it causes me pain? To let your own needs fall away, and not demand the full and complete story?"

Oliver looked at her with a very confused expression. "Mione, that is a very odd question."

"That may be, but I repeat, are you real?" she said quietly. "I have never known anyone who would let it go so easily. Except for maybe Harry and Ron. But they are my best friends and have known me for long enough to know when not to push."

"I don't want you to be in any more pain than you have to, love." Oliver said, his voice gruff as he took both her hands in his. "I don't know when it happened or how it happened, but I don't want you to suffer if you don't have to. I have had relationships go bad. Most people have. I don't need to know every single hurt to understand. Unless you want to tell me?" he said, looking at her.

Hermione looked at the ceiling. A single tear fell from her eyes, down the side of her cheek. Could she trust him? She looked back down to his face when he spoke her name.

"Mione? This is obviously a very serious topic for you. Why don't we sleep on it and you can decide if you want to tell me then?" Oliver said, his eyes searching hers. She closed her eyes and nodded. He reached forward and kissed her forehead before moving to leave. Her hand held tight to his and he looked back at her.

"W-Would you stay? Please?" she asked, her thoughts uncertain as she looked up at him.

Oliver nodded and climbed over to her. They shifted so that he lay next to her back, his arm loosely wrapped around her waist. Eventually, their riotous thoughts were quiet, allowing them to sleep.

* * *

Sunshine crept up the bed to shine directly onto Hermione's face the next morning. The sliver of light caused her to squint slightly and attempt to roll over away from the offending wake-up call. But her body couldn't respond. Heaviness over her waist wouldn't allow it. Her hands were close to her chest and felt trapped.

Her mind registered quickly that her leg was propped on something and every so often, a flow of air was caressing her forehead. She blinked slightly and looked out from under her lids.

A stubbly chin greeted her gaze as she moved her head back slightly to look up. Her leg slid off lightly from what she now realized was Oliver's thigh.

Oliver was sleeping peacefully as Hermione studied him, her shock at waking up next to him not as great as she would've imagined. Her mind skipped back over the events of the night before. Being unable to sleep, talking about their research, his hands rubbing her tension away, the heat of their kisses and what almost happened. The heat racing up her face was nothing compared to the next turn her thoughts took. Remembering what they had discussed and Oliver's complete acceptance of her struggle to tell him about her past caused her eyes to tear up again.

'How can I tell him?' she thought to herself sadly.

'_How can you not?_' her mind muttered back to her. '_He deserves to know it all, if you are to give yourselves a chance at anything real!_'

'But what if he hates me?' she argued within herself.

'_Then you will at least know. It doesn't make you a bad person, you know, to want to have something special again. You are not betraying anything or anyone._'

Hermione looked up at Oliver's face again, the tears clearing. His brow furrowed slightly then eased back to its normal relaxed state. He moved to his back slightly, freeing her trapped hands. She looked over his face and noticed the small scars located there. One crossed his forehead just above his right eyebrow. The thin white line was obviously an old injury and her fingers itched to trace it. She reached up and drew her fingertip along the mended skin upwards, towards his hairline. His hair brushed against her hand and she smiled.

Moving her eyes down his face, she noticed another small scar on his jaw. This one was not as long as the other, and still had a pinkish quality to it. 'That is a newer one,' she thought to herself, and traced it as well.

Oliver felta soft touch on his forehead and dragged himself reluctantly from the dregs of sleep. Another brush was felt at his jaw and he breathed in deeply, still fighting to stay asleep.

Hermione pulled her finger away quickly when he breathed in. She watched his eyes move behind his lids, as if he was searching for something. His brow furrowed again and he pulled his arm towards his body. Being it was trapped beneath Hermione, he also pulled her onto his chest.

His eyes blinked open as he realized the weight on his chest was not just a pillow, but softer and more pleasing, definitely. He looked down to her wide eyes, staring up at him, and smiled.

"Hi," he said, his voice deep and resonant.

"Hi," she whispered.

He kissed her forehead and snuggled around her even more. "How did you sleep?" he asked, his hand rubbing absently on the small of her back. Her arms were trapped under his, her hands resting lightly on his back.

"Um, fine."

"Mm-hm," he replied. "Been awake long?"

"No."

Her short whispered answers were starting to alert him to something he knew he should remember. His mind cast about for what it was, when she spoke again.

"Shouldn't we be getting up?" Hermione asked, uncertainty in her tone.

"Oh, I don't know. I kind of like it right here," he said with a grin.

Hermione felt his smile over her head and started to giggle.

Oliver pulled back from her quickly. "Did I just hear you giggle?" he asked in a mock serious tone. This only caused her to giggle again, her face pressing into his chest.

Oliver was starting to react to holding her in his arms, in a bed no less. The giggles were so unlike her and stirred him deeply, which, when he would think on it later, was very odd indeed.

He pulled her closer to him and kissed the top of her head. His hands were rubbing all along her back now and it was eliciting a disturbing response in both of them.

Hermione's arms crept over his back and her hands began to caress the warm skin. The touches were not like the night before, but tentative, searching. She could feel his hands roaming her body and knew he would take it slow. The heat between them was intense the night before, whereas now, they were stoking the embers carefully.

Oliver cleared his throat again and began to pull away from her. He didn't want to push her but his body wasn't cooperating. All the blood was rushing away from his brain and he knew if they continued, where it would lead. Her hands grabbed onto his back for a second and then she slid her arms away from his sides slowly, the fire from her touch burning his already heated skin.

"Um, why don't you take a shower and I will meet you downstairs for breakfast?" he suggested. Hermione's lips were slightly open as she looked at him, her eyes stillfilled with the drama of the evening before, but also with the passion he loved so much.

'Did I just say loved?' he thought.

His face gave nothing away of his thoughts as she nodded and began to rise from the bed. Oliver pulled her back to him quickly. His mouth found hers softly andhis kiss was gentle and searching. He squeezed her lightly and let her go, to climb off the side of the bed.

Hermione gathered her toiletries and clothing while Oliver watched; his body angled slightly, one leg stretched out in front of him. She let a small smile cross her face before she left the room, her eyes watching his as she closed the door.

Oliver flopped on his back, willing his heated blood to cool. How long would this last, he wondered.

Hermione leaned against the closed door of the bathroom, her heart feeling very light and beating hard. 'I don't know how long I can last,' she thought to herself.

A/N: Okay, I hope that satisfies you for now. I will try to keep updating as frequently as possible, but I have company coming today, so we will see. At the most, it will be every other day or so. Hang in there! Read and Review, please.


	22. Chapter 22

Hermione and Oliver plunged themselves into the research that day, and fell into bed exhausted that night. There was no repeat of the night before, although the tension between the two was not gone completely. In fact, the pull was getting stronger in one party in particular. But they both understood that many things had to be resolved first, before any steps would be taken to be together. Most surprising, the closeness between them was increasing.

Hermione sat at the desk, looking over the same book for the third time. She leaned back and rubbed her tired eyes. There was nothing in this book this time that it did not contain the first two times she looked at it. She was to return to work tomorrow, and although the progress was promising, it was not what she had hoped for. Every translation or lead they had discovered so far was bringing her closer to a certain Bulgarian.

Kyla walked in as Hermione began to flip through the pages in a different book for the second time since they started.

"How about a nice cup of tea, dears?" Kyla asked, setting a tea service on the coffee table near the balcony bookshelves.

Oliver yawned and stretched as he sat up. He had been reclining on one of the couches reading. "That sounds great, Mum. Thank you."

Hermione walked over and sat down next to Oliver, taking the cup of tea with immense gratitude in her eyes. "Thank you very much, Kyla."

Kyla nodded and sat down across from the two. Hermione settled against the back of the couch and let her eyes close. They all sat quietly for a few moments, enjoying the peace. Kyla watched Oliver look over to Hermione a few times, observing the tenderness that shone through.

"You two should take a break, you know. You have been sitting in here for the past day and a half looking at dusty books. Why don't you take a walk? You may come back with a fresh perspective," Kyla suggested, sipping her tea.

Hermione looked at Oliver, who had turned to look at her. They both grinned and jumped up, after setting down their cups.

"Bye, Mum," Oliver said, not noticing his mother's smirk behind her cup.

They raced out the back door through the kitchen, Oliver deftly passing Hermione on the steps. They sped to the end of the garden and out to the pasture beyond. Oliver was sure he would beat Hermione by a long ways, so he wasn't trying too hard. He looked over his shoulder to see her eyes glint at him from not a yard back. She was going all out, her hair flying behind her. Her trainers were moving extremely fast.

Oliver looked back forward and pushed until they reached an old stone wall, built before the 11th century.

"I win," he gasped, leaning on the wall for support.

Hermione caught up with him quickly and placed her hands on her knees, gulping in air.

"Yes, you win." Her eyes were sparkling and full of laughter when she stood up a few moments later, her breathing finally returning to normal. "But I reserve the right to a rematch."

Oliver's brow swept upwards and he challenged, "Think you have it in you, aye?"

Hermione nodded and walked along the stone wall, her delicate fingers tapping along the top. She stopped at a junction that separated the pastures and looked out over the land.

The blue sky was dotted with big white clouds and sunshine was fighting them to shower the land with warmth and heat. It had rained the day before and the lush green was competing with the grays and browns of the earth.

Oliver followed and stood behind her to her left, placing his arm on her shoulders.

"It is so beautiful here," Hermione said with a sigh. She didn't mind him touching her; in fact, she had begun to miss it. "Promise me I will be able to return here someday," she said, turning to look at him.

Oliver looked down and smiled. "Aye, lass, I will make you that promise."

Hermione nodded and looked back to the view. Oliver was still watching her, as the wind blew her hair about her face. Her cheeks were pink from the running and the wind. He reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear and Hermione closed her eyes.

As she turned to him, she opened them and was greeted with a sight she had never seen before. Her eyes widened slightly.

Hermione had watched humor, sadness, frustration, anger, passion, compassion, and the love of a son for his mother in the dark brown depths she was looking into now. But she had never seen this, the love of a man for a woman. It took her breath away to see Oliver looking at her like that. Her parents looked at one another like that, as did Ginny and Harry. No one, not even Viktor, had ever looked at her that way. 'When did this happen?' she thought to herself.

"Oliver?" she said quietly, but not too quietly.

Oliver reached up to place his hand on the side of her face. "You are an amazing woman, Mione," he said, leaning down to her.

Hermione closed her eyes and reached up slightly to touch her lips to his. The fullness of his mouth pressed against hers and she was lost. She had never been kissed such as this. The way his mouth captured her lips and just held them, not trying to deepen the kiss but just loving the contact. Her heart felt like it had wings and her brain was flying along side. Her legs were about to collapse from under her; she grasped his shoulders as Oliver wrapped his arms around her to hold her up. He moved from her lips to her nose, kissing the tip, then to her eyes, kissing each one in turn, until finally he kissed her forehead and held her to him as if his life depended on it.

Hermione's arms wound around his neck and she felt herself come back to earth. She was breathing in his scent at his neck and was content, for the first time in many years. The arms holding her relaxed and she looked up into his eyes, seeing once again all he felt for her. She smiled and was greeted with a blinding grin. Oliver took her hand and they began to walk back to the house.

Neither one noticed the curtain settle back into place at the kitchen window.

* * *

As they entered the library, Kyla looked up from his father's desk and smiled at them. Her eyes were sparkling. Oliver lifted his brow. 

"Oliver," Kyla began, "did you ever check your father's desk for anything?"

Shaking his head, Oliver said, "No, Mum. I just figured you had already removed everything from it."

"Well, I hadn't ever gotten around to it. I wasn't sure I should go into his things, considering how much he valued his privacy in here," Kyla said, the smile still on her face. "But, I remember he mentioned keeping an old book in the corner drawer, because he figured it was the safest place for it."

Hermione's eyes gleamed, as she asked, "Is it still there?"

"Well, I don't know. I am still unable to get that particular drawer open," Kyla said, stepping back from the desk.

Oliver walked over to the side of the desk his mother occupied and looked down at the drawer in question.

"You tried to open it?" he asked.

Kyla nodded and stood back even farther as Hermione made her way over to them.

Oliver reached down and grasped the handle to pull it open. Warmth traveled up his arm and the drawer cracked open. His eyes glittered strangely as he looked over at Hermione. He pulled more until the drawer was completely open. They both looked in to see an old tartan covering the bottom of it.

Hermione reached into the drawer to touch it, but the drawer began to emit blue sparks and some struck her hand. She pulled her hand away quickly and watched Oliver reach in to grab the tartan, with immediate success.

Oliver closed the drawer and placed the tartan on the desk. As he unwrapped the fabric, a very old book could be seen hidden in its depths. Hermione looked at the title, but it was unfamiliar, meaning, not the book they were looking for. She closed her eyes and sighed.

Oliver looked up to see the defeat in her face. He smiled and set his hand on the book. Immediately light began to shine from beneath his hand and as he removed it, Hermione looked at the book again. The title had changed. It was the book they wanted; all this time, just sitting next to her legs. She shook her head and laughed.

As they began to flip through the book, Kyla crept from the room. She walked up the stairs towards the master suite. Closing her door, she walked over to a picture sitting on the nightstand next to her bed. Her eyes moist, Kyla sat down and smiled at the man in the picture.

"It has happened. Our son has finally found her," she whispered.

Kenneth Wood returned the smile and winked at her.

* * *

As they sat together on the couch, Hermione and Oliver worked their way through the last book together. Her quill was scratching down notes quickly while his eyes skimmed over all the possible foreign phrases written down, which he then showed her, inspiring more scratches with the quill. 

"_Dolor voluntas commisceo"_, Oliver said, his voice resonating with the burr of his ancestors.

Hermione shifted slightly in her seat. Listening to his voice was unsettling her. She wrote this phrase down and studied it.

"Pain will join?" she said out loud.

"Hmm?" Oliver said, turning to her.

"That last phrase, '_dolor voluntas commisceo', _it means, 'pain will join'," she said.

"Pain?"

Hermione nodded. She didn't like this. First, Oliver's book talked about 'red versus white', implying a contest or battle of some kind. And now they find, 'pain will join.'

"Mione? What does that pertain to?" Oliver asked.

Hermione shrugged and began to scratch the translation onto her notes.

"That's it. That's all there is," Oliver said, shutting the book.

Hermione nodded and turned back to look at her notes from the beginning. She scratched several out, being as they had nothing to do with anything they needed, mostly pertaining to people in history. Her eyes focused on the last phrase again and she frowned.

Oliver had returned the book to the spelled drawer and sat back down beside Hermione. He leaned back on the couch and began to play with Hermione's hair, the messy bun coming loose from its hold. A smile crept across her face.

"Oliver?" Hermione said quietly.

"Yes?" he replied, still caressing the soft curls.

"I can't think when you do that," she said.

Oliver grinned. "Do what?"

"That, what you are doing," she said, her eyes still focusing on the papers in her lap.

"Oh. Well, would it be better if I did this?" he asked, tracing a finger down her neck, just behind her ear. Her eyes fluttered shut.

"No," she said with a sigh.

"Well, maybe this will allow you to concentrate better," he said, as he leaned over to trail his lips over the skin his finger had just explored.

Hermione swallowed and tried to catch her breath, her lips parting.

"No, that definitely doesn't make me concentrate better."

Oliver placed a feathery kiss on her collarbone and sat up.

Hermione let her head fall back to the couch as she looked at him. His eyes gleamed with a banked passion, but also the humor he found in their little love play. She smirked at him. He was just about to say something when his mother walked in to let them know that dinner was ready.

"Coming, Mum," Oliver said instead. Kyla nodded and walked back to the kitchen, humming. He stood and held his hand out to Hermione. As she placed her hand in his, he pulled her up quickly and her papers fell to the ground, forgotten. His hand brushed the loose strands of hair back from her face and he whispered the word, 'Later.'

* * *

A/N: I know, it bites. I just wanted to let you all know that I will be posting quite regular after this weekend again. Grandma is staying with me and I have been quite the busy bee. Enjoy the weekend all and look for a post on Monday sometime.

OH BTW….THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU….Over 7000 reads in 2 ½ wks! I am humbled by your attention.


	23. Chapter 23

A/N at end of chapter, and disclaimer...I disclaim any and all rights to the known characters in this story. I am sure JKR feels so much better now.

After a wonderful dinner filled with great food and laughter, Hermione and Oliver returned to the library to clear away the haphazard mess created over the past four days of searching. As she stood at the desk, her eyes were continually drawn to the desk drawer next to her. She had so many questions about it, but didn't want to distract from the research. She would investigate it eventually. Her mind filed the occurrence for the future.

Oliver had managed to return most of the books in the time she took clearing the desk. His knowledge of his library was amazing and as she watched him up on the second floor of the library, Hermione felt this amazing lightness fill her. 'I think he loves me,' she thought to herself. 'But how? How can he love me after only spending four days with me?'

'_He did know you before that,_' her mind replied, '_and don't forget your meeting at his house. That was explosive!_'

'But not very well. And what do I know about him, really?' she argued.

'_What is there to know? He is a good man, obviously. Adored by his family and most people he is in contact with. He is not hard on the eyes either_,' her mind said with a smirk.

'Looks aside,' Hermione argued with herself, a blush creeping up her face, 'who exactly is he close to? Who are his friends?'

'_Practically everyone you know. Come on, girl, do you honestly think that their judge of character is poor? He is a great guy, who has feelings for you. Don't overthink this like you do with everything, just let it be,_' her heart and mind said to her in unison.

Oliver watched Hermione from the balcony in secret. 'She is thinking too hard again," he thought to himself. He let out a deep breath and went to turn to put a book away, only to find himself looking at his mother. She beckoned him into the hall, away from the young lady's very observant eyes and ears.

"Shh," Kyla said, as Oliver was just about to ask her what she wanted. She glanced around the bookcase once more and then led Oliver to his bedroom. Closing the door softly, her eyes took in the scattered clothing and books around his room.

"Oliver," she scolded, as she picked his things up from the floor and chairs, to place them in his trunk.

"Mum," Oliver said, in a similar tone.

"Now, how are things between you two?" Kyla asked, her straightforward demeanor meant to shock Oliver into answering. She sat on his bed, after straightening the comforter.

Oliver looked at his mother and cocked an eyebrow. "Things?" he asked.

"Yes, how are things? Where are you two at in your relationship?"

"Mum! Really!" Oliver blushed.

"What? I am not allowed to ask about your love life?" Kyla said, her lips curving into a smile.

"No, you aren't. That's between Hermione and me," Oliver said, walking over to the window.

"Oliver, darling, look at me please."

Oliver glanced to his mother and seen only absolute love in her countenance.

"I only ask because I can tell where your heart is at. I know you very well, my dear," she said, walking over to look at him closely. "You have always been very careful with your feelings, much like your father. But, I recognize the signs. Your father looked at me the way you look at her. I won't tell you to be careful, you usually are. I will only tell you to be sure. Once a Wood man gives his heart to a woman, it is forever." Her eyes sparkled with memories.

Oliver turned to look at the mountains. 'Is this true? Is Hermione the one?' His mind turned over; the thought of her eyes looking at him with love and passion was like the Holy Grail to him, the ultimate goal. The passion was there, he had seen AND felt it. It scorched his mind to remember their kisses. But there wasn't love. Not yet anyway, he told himself.

Looking back to his mother, Oliver smiled down at her. "I am sure, Mum. I only hope that in time, she will see it as well. Her past may be a hurdle, for her at least. But I want her to know that it doesn't matter to me, and it shouldn't matter to anyone else," he stated, looking at his mother pointedly.

Kyla's eyes opened wide. She hadn't expected this, Oliver challenging her to accept Hermione or else. She grinned widely and wrapped her arms around her only son.

"Oh, darling. I adore her, no matter what is in her past. She has strength of spirit and heart," Kyla said, pulling back to look at Oliver. "Obviously, she has mastered her magic or she wouldn't be here, and that is only a good thing. Her brilliance is only matched by her beauty and compassion. What more could I want for you? Someone to love you fully, yet not be run over with your personality. It is all I have ever wanted for both my children."

Oliver hugged his mother close. "Thank you," he said quietly.

* * *

Hermione walked up the stairs to grab a sweater; it had gotten a bit chilly in the library. She looked towards Oliver's room, curious as to why the door was closed. 'That's odd, it wasn't closed earlier,' she thought. 

Glancing at the balcony area to the library, she finally noticed that Oliver was not there. Hermione walked over to his door and was about to knock when she heard talking. Normally not an eavesdropper, she couldn't help but overhear her name. She heard the soft murmur of Kyla's voice, but couldn't quite make out what she was saying. However, she didn't have any problem distinguishing Oliver's rich tone.

"_I am sure, Mum. I only hope that in time, she will see it as well. Her past may be a hurdle, for her at least. But I want her to know that it doesn't matter to me, and it shouldn't matter to anyone else."_

Hermione's mouth fell open as she listened. Kyla's soft voice was heard again, but still indistinguishable. She stood up straight and quietly walked to her room. Once there, she sat on the edge of the bed, lost to her thoughts, which were much more confused than earlier.

'He doesn't care about my past!' her heart exclaimed.

'_Of course he does, who wouldn't?' _her insecurity challenged.

'No, he wouldn't. He just said it wouldn't matter to him, no matter what,' she challenged, grasping at this new development.

'_But who would want a woman with a past such as this!'_ the insecurity raged.

'I didn't do anything wrong. I was young and naïve. Nobody is the culprit here but fate.'

'_And you think that will make a difference?'_

"Yes," she said quietly. "It will. It does, to Oliver, and to me."

Hermione's eyes widened as she finally let herself understand that sometimes, things are not meant to be. Having Viktor's baby was one of those times. She had done nothing wrong.

She lay back on the bed, looking at the ceiling, and felt as if the sun had just broke through a week long storm cloud. Her entire inner conscience was undergoing a change, and it was all for the better. The guilt and shame she had been feeling over the miscarriage was shedding like a second skin, from the inside. The pain was still there, but it was lessened by the thought that she didn't have to punish herself any longer. Healing could begin, inside and out.

Tears overflowed her eyes to slide down the sides of her face, but they were not the tears of a broken woman any longer. Finally, the healing tears of laying the past to rest fell as she lay there and let the icy core of her own torment melt away. This would explain why she didn't hear the soft tap at her door.

"Hermione?" Oliver said quietly, opening the door slightly. His eyes fell on the figure on the bed, unaware of the drama unfolding there. He closed the door silently and walked over to the bed.

Soft brown eyes filled with both sadness and wonder were focused on the ceiling as he approached. His heart ached to see her like that as he sat carefully on the chair next to the bed. Hermione was still unaware of his presence as her dark lashes fell to her cheeks as she took a deep breath. Small hands reached and wiped her face and he breathed a little easier, the knot in his chest loosening. He closed his eyes and sat back, trying to understand this amazing, complicated woman.

Hermione began to sit up and realized she wasn't alone. She observed Oliver sitting next to the bed, his eyes closed. A smile crept over her face and she could feel her eyes begin to tear up again, but she quickly wiped the telltale signs away and reached for his hand.

He had heard the bed move, but wasn't about to open his eyes to see all the pain residing in her. Her sniffles were not very loud, but he still caught them. Then a surprising thing happened. A soft warm hand touched his fingers and became interlaced with them. It was then that Oliver opened his eyes and looked at Hermione. The sweet smile on her face was in total contrast with what he walked in on, and to be frank, he was a bit confused.

"Hi," she said quietly.

"Hi," he replied. Clearing his throat, he asked, "Are you alright?"

Hermione smiled deeper and nodded, looking at their hands. She gave a little tug to pull him closer and he rose to sit next to her on the bed. Her other hand began to play with his as they both watched. Her shoulders lifted as she took a deep breath and started to say what she had held onto for so long.

"Oliver," she began, stopping as his finger landed on her soft lips.

"It's okay," he said. "You don't have to explain."

Hermione's eyes softened and almost overflowed with the tears she wanted to shed. A small smile graced her lips as she said, "I want to."

"You don't have to," he insisted.

"Yes, I do," she said, her eyes looking into his. "When we talked the other night, you asked me about Viktor, and I told you some of what happened, but not all. I want to tell you, not because it really matters, but because you deserve to know. And more importantly, I trust you to know about it," she finished.

Oliver raised his brows and nodded for her to continue.

"After Viktor started leaving on his promotional trips, I discovered that I was," and she paused. This wasn't easy, even after her revelation, but she harnessed her Gryffindor courage and said, "I discovered I was pregnant."

Oliver's eyes widened as he absorbed this detail. 'Pregnant?' he said to himself.

Hermione watched his face and rushed onward.

"I was about seven weeks along when I lost the baby," she finished, several tears flowing down her face.

Looking at their hands, she took a shaky breath and continued. "I hadn't been taking care of myself, and morning sickness was not just in the morning for me. Missing so many classes and lectures, I was driving myself like a demon, trying to keep up with my studies," she said, the shame still coloring her tone of voice.

Oliver lifted her face to look in her eyes.

"Were you alone?" he asked. She nodded. His mouth settled in a grim line and he wanted to punch something, preferably a large Bulgarian face. He tenderly placed his arms around Hermione and held her, his hands rubbing along her back.

"Things between us had been continuing downhill, because of the pregnancy. The nausea and any thought of a physical relationship didn't go well together," Hermione continued, her head resting in the crook of his chest and shoulder. A soft kiss was placed on her forehead and Oliver pulled back.

"What did he say?" he asked.

"Nothing really. I was not very receptive to any overtures at that point, being so heartbroken. And he wasn't in the frame of mind to offer them. Any chance we had died with our child. We just drifted apart, although I've realized from this perspective that we died a long time before then," Hermione said, and stopped. She wasn't going to bash Viktor to Oliver, who she could tell was keeping a stranglehold on his emotions as it was.

Oliver nodded and looked across the room thoughtfully.

"Is this what you were afraid to tell me?" he asked, looking back to her.

Nodding, Hermione said, "I wasn't sure how you would react. But more than that, I blame or I should say, blamed myself for it. I realize now that sometimes things happen, and not for the best or worst of reasons. They just happen." Her hand reached up and wiped at her eyes.

"Can I ask you something?" Hermione said, her eyes looking into his. She was looking for a change in him, anything to let her know that he wasn't okay with this. Oliver nodded.

"Does knowing this change anything?" she said quietly.

Oliver's eyes flared as he set his jaw. Hermione tried to look down from his obvious displeasure but he lifted her chin and forced her to look at him.

"Nothing could make me care for you any less than I do already, no matter what you said to me," he said deeply, his voice harsh, but gentle at the same time. Hermione's eyes filled with tears as she nodded. Oliver pulled her into an embrace and held her tightly.

"Thank you," Hermione said in a whisper.

They relaxed into each other, enjoying the quiet and peace that had finally come to one woman's soul.

* * *

A/N//climbs unto gallows with rope in hand/ I apologize for taking so long. This chapter was particularly difficult to get through for some reason. Besides life going on all around me, the ideas were just not coming. I figure I came down with a dreaded form of writers block, meaning the desire was there, but not the words. Sorry again. Please read and review and I hope you enjoy. /meekly hands rope to fans/readers to let them do with it what they will./ 


	24. Chapter 24

DISCLAIMER: Nope, aint mine. Someday, I may own a story. But as for now, I just own a plot and a big mortgage! Enjoy.

Monday morning dawned just as beautiful as the day they arrived at the Wood Estate. Hermione had packed and gotten ready to return to London the night before. Although, not for the first time in her life, sleep was not ready to come to her. Sitting in the Wood's kitchen, listening to the morning birds, she reflected on her lost night of sleep.

SUNDAY EVENING

_Once Oliver had left and she was finished packing, she again visited the library to finish gathering all her notes and any leftover items. Walking around the dark room, she was filled with a sense of longing and sadness. She would truly miss this room; in fact, she would miss everything about this place. The gardens, the comforting foyer, the views; all of it. As she trailed her fingers over the desk for one last time, she smiled. The hope that filled her at that moment was so encompassing, she couldn't help it. She felt, deep down, she would return here one day._

_Hermione lay in bed for hours trying to sleep, but it would not come. Given all the emotional turmoil of the day, she figured she would be out like a light. Her mind raced with all she had learned of the books, Oliver, and with a bit of surprise and relief, herself._

_Lying there, her mind went over every detail of the books that she could remember. All the facts and information was filed away neatly in her memory and could be accessed easily. She had learned to glean specific facts and hold them as markers while she was still at Hogwarts and it had served her well throughout her studies and during the course of her job. _

_Cuddling a pillow to her, she moved onto thoughts of Oliver. Every smile, touch, and feeling he had evoked in her swept through and warmth spread from her soul outward. While she was surprised by the feelings he had developed for her, she was not foolish enough to allow her head to get away from her. Her sensible nature was just too strong to allow herself to fall dramatically into his arms and give herself over to him. Perhaps she was still a bit wary, but being so wasn't necessarily a bad thing, in her mind. _

_Turning over in the bed to look out the window, Hermione reflected on the steps she had taken that day. Hearing Oliver express his acceptance of any and all past history as pertained to her was a strong motivator to her self discovery. It allowed the healing process she had denied herself for so long to begin. Her teary eyes caused the room to become blurry, yet again. Except for those closest to her, she had never experienced that sense of unconditional acceptance; from her earliest memories, acceptance had always been derived from her achievements, in school and out. To have that from Oliver was a treasure she recognized clearly. Wiping her eyes yet again, she smiled and snuggled the pillow closer, finally allowing her mind to rest and rejuvenate itself._

Sipping the tea she had made earlier, Hermione felt a small stab of fear as she thought about what would happen once they returned to London. Oliver was still on medical leave from Quidditch because of his injury. He had mentioned an appointment later that week, but hadn't really spoken of the details while they were working. He didn't seem to be in much pain, but what he let show and what he truly felt were two different things, as she could attest to.

Hearing voices from the hall, Hermione sat up and refilled her cup, being sure to wipe all signs of worry and fatigue from her face. Putting on a small smile, she observed Oliver and Kyla as they walked in, and felt an odd tug in her stomach. Oliver had obviously just taken a shower, as his hair was slightly wet and his face freshly shaven. Kyla had her arm around his waist, looking up at him with love, and perhaps a touch of sadness?

Hermione said brightly, "Good morning."

Oliver's eyes swung to her and he smiled wide. "Good morning, Mione."

Squeezing her son's waist, Kyla smiled and repeated Oliver's greeting. She walked over to the teapot and poured herself a cup.

Oliver walked by his mother and asked, "How did you sleep?" taking the seat next to Hermione.

"Okay," Hermione said. She had caught a scent of Oliver's aftershave, causing her mind to fog a bit as the tug in her belly became stronger. Her smile wavered.

"Well, I slept horribly," Oliver whispered in her ear, reaching across Hermione for a cup. A flush found its way onto Hermione's face as she watched him pour his tea.

"I'm sorry," she replied. Oliver grinned.

"I'm not. Very interesting things, dreams," he said with a quiet chuckle. Hermione's eyes flared open at his blatant insinuation that he dreamt about her. Small beads of sweat sprung between her breasts as she tried to imagine what he had dreamt about.

"So," Kyla said, causing them both to jump a little, "what time do you leave?"

"Our portkey is for 1," Oliver said, looking out the window. He needed to stop flirting with Hermione before he embarrassed the both of them. He was sure his mother wouldn't take kindly if he acted on the thoughts racing through his mind.

"Well, then, we have time for a nice breakfast," Kyla said happily, noting to herself the flush on Hermione's face. She had caught what Oliver had whispered but was not about to interfere. Their relationship had very good prospects and she was thrilled that her suspicions were correct. She rose from the table to begin preparing the meal.

Hermione looked over to Oliver as she reached for his hand. He turned to her and threaded her fingers through his, her deep brown eyes searching his; she smiled. Oliver brought their joined hands to his lips, kissing the back of her slender fingers. Then he winked. Hermione laughed. Her qualms about returning to London were driven down as optimism reared its head once more in her life.

* * *

As they left the Wood Estate, Hermione and Oliver each to their own thoughts, Kyla watched from the door. Her heart was light at the thought of her son finally finding his destiny, but she didn't want to get too far ahead of the situation. Whatever lay ahead, she hoped they could weather it together. She waved to the couple when they turned to give one last goodbye. Perhaps she could help the situation along when she returned to London herself. A smile crossed her face as she turned and closed the door.

* * *

Stillness hovered in the room, much like the dust motes floating in the air. The sunshine pouring through the wall of windows caught each small fleck. Abruptly, two people appearing in the warm living room with a POP caused the dust motes to swirl and dart around, before settling again once more. 

Hermione opened her eyes and swayed slightly. Her hand flying up to her head, she shook off the dizzy spell. Her blinking eyes took in the slightly dusty appearance of the living room and she wondered what her flat would be like. Suddenly, her nerves tingled as she realized she was in Oliver's living room once more.

Oliver himself was feeling a bit unsettled as he got his bearings. He coughed slightly and said, "Why don't I put this away and we can have some tea," indicating his trunk.

Hermione nodded as he smiled at her and left the room. She sat down on the couch to wait. Her face felt hot and she realized how much warmer it was here in the south of England. 'I will never complain about the rainy season again,' she thought to herself, shrugging out of her sweater.

Oliver returned almost immediately, carrying a small yellow bundle.

"You left this here the other day," he said, handing it to Hermione.

"Oh," she said with a smile on her face, taking the sweater. "Thank you. I hadn't even realized."

"It was stuck down in the chair. My mum gave me the third degree over that," he chuckled. Hermione laughed along with him. He reached down for her hand and lifted her easily to her feet.

"Now, how about some tea?" he asked, stroking her hand with his thumb.

"Um, actually, I should probably get to the office, to update Evan. I did tell him I would come in when I returned," Hermione said, a look of contrition on her face.

"Oh, well. Alright. Raincheck, then?" Oliver asked quietly.

"Of course. I think that we should meet again sometime this week to go over any new progress I have made, don't you?" she said, the small smile back on her face.

Oliver grinned. "Absolutely. What day would be best for you?"

Hermione's eyes looked down as she contemplated. "Um, how about Thursday evening?"

"Um, yes. That would be fine. I do have an appointment earlier that afternoon, but we can meet here around 6?" he said eagerly.

Hermione looked up to his eyes, seeing a small sparkle there. She smiled as she nodded.

"Okay, Thursday it is. Are you going to apparate to the office?" he asked.

"No, I need to floo to my flat and return my things first, before I go see Evan," she replied, bending to pick up her trunk. Oliver took hold of it before she had the opportunity and walked over to the fireplace, setting it inside. Hermione followed.

They both stood for a moment looking at one another before Oliver pulled her into a hug. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest. She breathed in deeply and sighed. His hands rubbed small circles along her spine and she squeezed slightly, careful not to hurt his back. They both leaned back at the same time, eyes meeting.

Oliver's hand swept across her cheek and lifted her chin to touch her lips with his. Hermione leaned into the kiss and into him. His hand slid along her jaw to her hair, where he couldn't resist wrapping his fingers in her silken curls once more.

Hermione ended the kiss slowly, leaning back slightly and felt the feathery touch of lips on her forehead.

"I'll see you on Thursday," she said, pulling away. Her hand grasped his and squeezed before she stepped into the fireplace. Oliver's eyes watched her as she said distinctly, "Home", and with a last glimpse of his handsome face, she vanished.

Oliver watched her leave and instantly felt the emptiness. His home was no longer a place for him to relax. Now, it was just walls and a roof, without the light of Hermione's companionship to fill it. He thrust his hand through his hair.

"Man, this is going to be torture," he said to the quiet room.

* * *

Once she had returned her trunk to her flat and changed her clothes, Hermione apparated to Diagon Alley. She smiled as she walked through Flourish & Blott's, saying hello to all the employees. They all looked at each other after she walked by with a raised brow and shrugs. 

Her knock was met with a slightly muffled 'Come in' and she opened the door.

"Good afternoon, Hermione," Evan said, rising from his desk. He reached for her hand as she approached, shaking it with two short pumps before they both sat down again.

"Good afternoon, Evan," Hermione said, her smile still in place.

"So, what did you find out?" he asked, getting right down to business.

"It was just as we suspected," she replied, covering all the pertinent facts. Even though the confidentiality charm was not in place yet, she still practiced the art of saying little but giving what she felt she could.

Evan nodded as he worked on a stack of papers in front of him. This was a common practice between them.

Once Hermione had finished, Evan looked up, pushing his glasses onto his head.

"So, sounds like a trip to the Conservatory will still be required," he observed.

"Looks that way, Evan," Hermione replied. She still didn't like it, but it was the only option left.

"How soon?" he asked.

"Well, I would prefer to go next week, with all the information still fresh in my mind. If you need me here though, I can go-"

"No, no. Next week will be fine. Student purchases won't be starting until the end of July, early August, so this is actually the best time for you to go," he said, leaning back in his chair.

"Okay."

"Will Mr. Wood be accompanying you?" Evan asked.

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise, and then she smiled.

"I know how vested he is in his books. Takes after his father that way," Evan said, reminiscing.

"He is very involved, but I am not certain if he should be at this juncture," Hermione countered, sitting up straight. She schooled her expression and continued, "I don't know when he will be cleared to play again, so it is entirely up to his doctors, I suppose."

Evan nodded gravely. "Well, it matters little really. But, I always say, two heads-"

"Are better than one, yes," Hermione completed the phrase with a grin.

"Exactly. Well, is there anything else?" Evan said, his eyes diverting to the papers on his desk once again.

"No, I think that covers it," she answered.

"Okay. Now, you take the rest of the day off, get rested up this evening, and we will go over what has happened in your absence tomorrow morning, bright and early," Evan said, smiling as he looked up to her. She nodded.

"Thank you, Evan."

Good day, Hermione," Evan replied, already working on another stack of paperwork.

"Good day."

Leaving the bookstore, Hermione stood in the street, looking around for something to do this afternoon. It was only three and she had the rest of the day to herself. She began to walk towards the Leaky Cauldron, thinking she might grab an early bite to eat and then go back to her flat. Her boring, sparse, empty flat. Her thoughts turned to the past four days and how much she had actually enjoyed herself, the dramatic moments aside.

As she walked, the bright flyers of the Weasley twin's joke shop caught her eye, and she felt pulled to the door. There weren't many customers, which was odd. Opening the door, she smiled as the aroma of sweets enveloped her. She browsed the edges of the shop, admiring the new items and old favorites alike.

"And what would the lovely miss like for today?" a deep voice asked from behind her. Hermione turned to see the smiling face of George Weasley looking at her.

"I am just browsing, sir. And you are quite impertinent to suggest that I am unattached," Hermione said, a mock scowl on her face.

George grinned. He was quite used to Hermione's tricks. "It has become necessary to investigate the left hand of most females to enter our establishment, as we have been cursed more than a few times," he said, with an air of disdain for her tone.

"Ri-ight," Hermione said, her lips turning up at the corners.

They both looked at the other people in the shop and then started to snicker. She reached up to kiss his cheek and smiled as he looked surprised.

"George, you know better than to proposition the cust-"Fred said as he walked up behind them. "Oh, Hello Hermione."

"Hello, Fred," she said, reaching up to kiss his cheek also. The reaction was priceless. Fred's mouth fell open and he stepped back, looking at her like she was a Blast-Ended Skrewt.

Hermione and George both started to laugh.

"Honestly, Fred. You'd think you've never been kissed before," George said between his laughter.

"Not by her, I haven't," Fred replied, looking at Hermione closely. "Who are you?"

She smiled. "I am me, my dear Fred. Now, do either of you have time for a cup of tea?" she asked, looping her arms through theirs.

* * *

A/N: Thank you to you all for being so patient. First of two new chapters is up, so I will get cranking on the next part of the saga of Hermione and Oliver. Also, for those of you with delicate sensabilities, the next chapter is quite graphic, if it is even allowed at all. I hope so, as I tried to make it sensual, but not COMPLETELY vulgar. Let me know how I did. ;) TA 


	25. Chapter 25

DISCLAIMER: I am not her, she is not me. Boo Hoo!

* * *

_She smiled. "I am me, my dear Fred. Now, do either of you have time for a cup of tea?" she asked, looping her arms through theirs._

The twins looked at each other over her head with raised brows. 'Something is up,' they both thought at the same time. This was a very different side of the Hermione they all knew, and it begged to be explored.

"Certainly, my dear. Oi, watch the shop!" Fred hollered to the young man at the cash register. He just nodded and returned to his customer.

As they entered the back room of the shop, the bubbling and popping noises surrounded them. Many experiments were being conducted at once, and the resulting mess was what one would expect after knowing the twins for any period of time.

There was one table unoccupied by anything noxious, and it was here they all sat to enjoy their tea.

"So, how are you boys?" Hermione asked. "I feel like I haven't seen anyone in ages."

"Boys?" Fred exclaimed with indignation, setting out the tea service.

"We're older than you, Hermione," George said, pouring her tea. He smiled as she rolled her eyes.

"Thank you. Excuse me," she said, as she cleared her throat. "How are you two strapping young specimens of fine wizard virility doing?" she rephrased with a smirk dancing on her face.

George gasped, almost dropping the teapot he was holding, as Fred turned to the side to avoid spraying the contents of his mouth all over Hermione, as she smiled into her teacup.

"What has gotten into you-"Fred started after wiping his chin.

"-and where do we get some?" George finished, setting the teapot down carefully.

Hermione chuckled. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Sure, and I am Snape's love child," Fred replied sarcastically.

"Hey, Fred, ew, okay? Don't drag me into your sick fantasies," George said, glaring at Fred.

Hermione smiled again as the twins began to bicker like an old married couple. She cleared her throat and said in a voice reminiscent of their mother, "Bo-, ahem, gentlemen!"

They looked at her, smiled sheepishly, and sat down. Hermione asked them again how things were.

"Things are going swimmingly here," George said.

"Yeah. Wedding plans are progressing well and we have not yet gotten popped for being, what was it Harry said?" Fred asked George.

"NID," George replied, setting down his cup.

Hermione lowered her brows in question.

"Not Into Details," they chorused.

They all broke into laughter as family news was shared over their tea time.

Later, after Hermione returned from the ladies room, George waggled his brows at Fred, who jumped up to clear off the table in an almost nonchalant manner.

"So, where have you been to miss our stunning masculinity, Hermione?" George asked offhand.

Her cheeks flushed pink as she smiled softly and said, "I was working, out of town."

"Ah, must have been very enjoyable to make you blush so," Fred observed.

Her face only deepened in color as she remembered exactly how enjoyable it really was. The twins exchanged winks.

"So, what were you working on?" George asked, rising to turn off a burner under a cauldron that was about to boil over.

"Well, I can't really break the confidence of my client," she said firmly.

"Okay, then just tell us who it is. No details, just a name," Fred asked, wiping down the table.

"Why are you so interested?" Hermione asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Why?" Fred uttered as he stopped wiping.

"Yes, why?" Hermione repeated.

"Why?" Fred said again, looking at George for help.

"Hermione," George began, "we, or at least I, have always been interested in your work. You know that."

Hermione's eyes softened. It was true. George was a great source of encouragement when she was completing her studies all over the world. She would talk to him about the difficulty learning translations and applying them accurately, when she actually managed to return to England those few times. He showed her how to think outside the strict areas of her learning, to think 'outside the box' if you will. Chewing her lip, Hermione remembered the times he would look at her notes, and mix things up to test her. One such passage had taken her almost a week to work out. It opened her mind greatly and allowed her to look for things not set in the stone of literature and languages.

"George, I never knew," Fred said, looking a bit disheartened. He tossed the dishcloth at the sink with a bit of force.

"You were too busy chasing the fair Angelina, Fred. Your mind was quite focused," George said with a shrug.

Before they could get into it yet again, Hermione interrupted.

"If you two must know, and you probably will find out eventually, seeing as the client is a very good friend of yours, I was in Scotland."

Twin sets of identical eyebrows rose. "Scotland, eh?" George said, his eyes flaring a bit.

Hermione nodded.

Fred, knowing the look in George's eyes, kept quiet.

"Good friend, you say? Tall feller? Devilishly handsome, brown hair?" George said with a questioning look on his face. His eyes told a different story, alive with humor and a bit of patting on the back for himself and Fred.

Hermione blushed and nodded.

George clapped his hands together.

"Well, this is a pleasant development then," he said.

"What?" Fred asked innocently, "who is it?"

"No names, dear brother. Wouldn't want to endanger Hermione's promise of confidentiality," George said with a wink to her. She smiled.

Fred crossed his arms and glared at the two of them.

"Let's just say, the gentleman in question is quite well-known for, how do I say this, his passion for Quidditch?" George said, looking meaningfully at Fred. Fred's eyes widened as he looked at Hermione. He grinned like the cat that got into the cream.

"Shhh, now. No names, Fred," George said again. Fred nodded.

George's face changed to a serious expression.

"I should let you know, dear girl, the gentleman we are talking about has been burned in the past, quite severely," he said, his voice laced with not one bit of humor.

Hermione's eyes widened. "Why are you telling me?" she asked.

"We just want to make sure that you are aware of his nature, when it comes to relationships. We care deeply for both of you," Fred said quietly, taking her small hand in his.

"Yes," George continued, "we care for you both, but I will caution you that if you are not at all serious about him, I would quit it now, for both of your sakes. When this particular person gives over to another, it is complete," he said, his meaning clear, as he took her other hand.

Her eyes softened again as she squeezed both their hands. "I'll not muddy him about, fellas, if that what is worrying you. It would be wrong to play him like that, and I," she hesitated.

"You…" Fred prompted.

"I," Hermione began again, taking a deep breath, "I think it may be too late for backing out anyway." Her face was almost as red as the twin's hair by now.

Two faces broke into grins as they hugged Hermione from both sides.

"That is just splendid," George said. They all laughed.

Hermione removed herself of the double entanglement and straightened her hair.

"I must be going now," she said, her face bright. "I will try to see you again before I leave."

"Leave?" the red heads asked in unison.

"Yes, I have to travel out of town again next week. Hopefully I won't be gone for too long, but I promise to keep you two informed, okay?" she said, giving each one a hug goodbye. Her heart was fair to bursting over her realization and she wanted to leave before she embarrassed them.

"I will hold you to that, Mione," George said, holding her an extra moment. He had always had a soft spot for her. She was like another sister to him.

She smiled and waved, leaving through the front entrance.

"George," Fred asked his voice quiet, "what is going on with you two?" He knew every single Weasley loved and cared for Hermione, but this was different.

"Fred, I just care about her. She is like another sister, but more. I can't really explain it, but don't worry, it isn't like that," George assured his twin. He knew Fred was thinking of Katie. "There could never be anyone for me but Katie."

Fred clapped him on the back and smiled. "Quite right. Who else would put up with me so well?" They laughed, walking back into the shop.

* * *

The soft strains of saxophone and piano combined filtered through the room as they swayed in each other's arms. Hermione's head rested on Oliver's chest as she breathed in his scent. He felt her breasts push into him with her deep breath, fanning the flames of his desire even higher. His hand resting at the nape of her neck teased the deep curls that had come loose from the twist she wore that evening, trailing down her soft-as-down skin to the back of her sundress. 

Hermione's body shivered against his and she leaned back to look up into his eyes, all the passion she felt present in hers. Her lips parted slightly as Oliver leaned down to kiss her softly. His tongue traced the lines of her lips from corner to corner and she gripped his waist. His arms pulled her closer still as he swept his tongue in her mouth, eliciting a soft moan from her throat.

Her hands tugged at his t-shirt, pulling it slowly from the waistband of his slacks, as Oliver's heat radiated through. Her slender fingers grazed the skin on his ribcage, tugging the shirt up and over his head, breaking the kiss; this allowed her to explore his chest with her mouth, following the lines of muscles with her tongue. His fingers worked through the clips holding her hair up. The cascade of curls fell onto his hands and he gripped the back of her head, tugging her face up for another soft and deep kiss.

Her hands were unbuttoning his pants when he raised his head and said with a rasp to his voice, "Why don't we move this to somewhere more comfortable?"

Hermione nodded and they walked into the bedroom. Candlelight was provided with a whisper and Oliver closed the door, turning to the love of his life. His heart pounded as he walked over and ran his fingertip down her shoulder to the ties of her dress. His hands began to loosen them and she turned her head to delicately nip at his fingers. The gentle pressure of her teeth tore at him, almost making him fumble the simple act of pulling loose the strings. As the dress slid down to her waist, he turned her to admire the beauty of her in the candlelight. The soft glow emanating from her eyes touched him deep in his soul as he traced the line of soft freckles down her cheek with his fingertip.

Hermione's hands spread out from the center over his chest, causing a trail of fire in their wake. The small fingers slid down his ribcage again, causing him to gasp. Her eyes flared at his response to her touch and she moved her hands to his waist once more, tugging him closer to her.

Oliver moved his hands over her shoulders to pull her to him, feeling her breasts press into his bare chest and their instant response to the contact. His mouth moved over her face slowly, dropping kisses along her jaw. He nipped at her earlobe, blazing a trail from there to her neck with his tongue as her hands finished undoing the front of his slacks. Hermione's hand slid into his boxers to grasp a hold of him and he tightened every muscle in his body instantly. His teeth clamped down lightly on her shoulder as she moved her hand over the silky length of him again and again.

Hermione's eyes were dark when Oliver raised his head to look at her. Her eyelids fluttered closed and she removed her hand from its warm location as Oliver's hands pushed her dress the rest of the way down her hips, and she stepped out of where it had pooled on the floor. When he stood back up, he slipped his own clothing off and reached for her. The only garment separating them were a pair of hi-cut lace panties and Oliver removed them from Hermione with gentle precision, designed to arouse every nerve in her body. Judging by her gasps, he was successful.

Walking backwards, Hermione beckoned him with a finger, sliding back over the soft duvet to the pillows. Oliver crawled over her and rested his legs on either side of hers, his body covering her almost completely. He kissed her lips with passion, his tongue probing her mouth gently but fervently. Her arms wound around him and his hair tickled between her fingers as she moved through it. When he moved to her neck, his lips nibbling and licking down to the valley between her breasts, she grasped his hair quickly and let a soft moan escape.

Progressing over her body, Oliver was fighting to keep things on an even keel, but his desire to be sheathed within her was raging. As Hermione responded to the attention of his mouth at her breast, he instantly thought he could go for an eternity just listening to her. One hand slid down her body to her triangle of curls, and she arched up as he found her completely ready for him. He slid his fingers through the wetness to find the unshakable evidence and she cried out softly.

Hermione's hand gripped his shoulders as she pulled him up to her, her eyes flashing with absolute certainty that she was done waiting. Oliver's desire roared in approval as her hand slid between them to guide him to her opening. Preparing him slowly and agonizingly, she thrust her hips up as he pushed into her, both of them moaning as they were joined. They held still for a moment, each looking into the other's eyes, memorizing this moment for all eternity. Hermione's eyes sparkled with unshed emotions as she opened her mouth and said, "I lo-".

Oliver sat up quickly, his breathing heavy and loud in the semi-dark room. A sheen of sweat covered his bare chest as he looked around for the woman in his dream. His mind eventually grasped the idea that it wasn't real. His heart racing, he threw off the covers and sat at the edge of the bed. Bending his head to his hands, he forcefully calmed the pounding of his heart and the unevenness of his breathing, his body finally coming under control. His soul's desire wasn't so complacent. He really wished he hadn't woken up at that point. What she was about to say was so tantalizing; his soul could have wept with the need to hear her finish.

"UGH!" his voice bellowed through the empty house. He couldn't believe it was all just a dream. He hadn't been that worked up since…well, since they had been together at his parent's house, he grimaced. Another thing, he never dreamt like that before, where every fiber of his being was clamoring for something. His dreams during school were usually about Quidditch formations, very rarely about girls. He didn't really know how rare that was, but accepted it as fact. When he got older, he never dreamed about women in particular. He didn't really have to, between Quidditch exhausting even his subconscious and being able to fulfill certain needs every now and again.

The dream was replaying itself in his mind, and Oliver could almost taste her skin once again. His body began to respond and he growled. Looking over at the clock, he realized it was still quite early. The sun was just beginning to lighten the sky outside the window. "Might as well get up," he muttered. He would have liked to act on the thoughts pounding through his head, but unfortunately, the person causing all this turmoil was absent.

He walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. 'This definitely calls for a cold shower this morning,' he thought to himself, as he dropped his pajama bottoms. He gasped as he stepped under the stream of icy water, it beginning to do its job immediately. He began to wash his hair, thinking of what he had to do that day. 'It's Thursday, so I have the doctor's appointment this afternoon, and then,' his hands stilled in his hair. 'It's Thursday.' Hermione would be coming over for dinner tonight, to discuss any progress on the book. His blood began to race again as he thought of her. 'This will not do,' he thought as he rinsed his hair, standing there for a good ten minutes until the shivering became uncontrollable. He smiled when he finally gained control of his heated thoughts once more and began to plan the evening ahead. He stepped from the shower and dried off quickly.

Walking back to his room, he looked at the messy bedcovers and saw Hermione laying there, her eyes beckoning to him.

'Perhaps it doesn't have to just be a dream,' he thought as he fought his desire again, and reluctantly dressed for the day.

* * *

A/N: So...yeah. Um...more to come soon. ;) Thank you all for reading. TA 


	26. Chapter 26

A/N: I didn't do it.JKR did. Blame her.

* * *

Walking through the stadium corridors, Oliver was thinking over what the team doctors just relayed to him. 'Possible nerve damage, should considered retiring, another injury could be paralyzing, been playing a long time,' their voices played over and over in his head. Not noticing the smiles and nods from people passing in the hall, Oliver felt as if he might be physically sick. 'How can I _NOT_ play Quidditch?' he thought, walking through the doors of the locker room like an automaton. Finally reaching his locker, he sat down on the bench slowly and stared unseeing at the floor. 

The locker door swung open as the team began to file in from their recent practice, laughing and carrying on. Ted, a chaser, noticed Oliver immediately. He walked over and sat down next to Oliver, a wide grin on his face.

"Man, are you a sight for these eyes!" Ted said.

"Hey, Ted," Oliver said, finally looking up.

Seeing the look on his face, Ted instantly realized that this was not the same Oliver he had been teammates with for many years.

"Where have you been?" he asked.

"Had some things to take care of at my parent's place," Oliver answered. He wasn't about to mention Hermione or the book.

"Ah," Ted said. He fidgeted with his pad on his knee. "So, any news? Docs give you the okay to play yet?"

Oliver looked back at the floor. "No, they haven't. Could be quite a while til that happens."

Ted was surprised. They had survived worse hits in practice than Oliver had taken. Fortunately, most of the time, they were able to continue with practice.

"Really. Does Coach know?" he asked.

"I don't know. I just now finished with the examination." Oliver stood up. "Is he still on the pitch?"

"I think so," Ted replied.

"Right. Well, if I don't see you, take care of yourself." Oliver held out his hand.

Ted grasped it and waited for Oliver to look him in the eye.

"If you need to talk, or just, I don't know," Ted said, "my door is always open."

"Thanks," Oliver said, a ghost of a smile on his face. He turned and walked quickly out of the locker room.

He walked out to the pitch dejectedly to see Coach McManus levitating the Quidditch equipment from the center towards him.

"Wood! How are you?" his booming voice ringing through the passageway.

"Hello, Coach," Oliver

'Hello, coach?' What is wrong with you boy?" McManus said with a frown.

"Just got finished with the recent medical check," Oliver said.

"Ah, I see," McManus replied. "Well, follow me. We need to discuss your return."

Oliver trailed him to his office. Once Coach McManus had deposited the box in a secure locker, they faced each other seated across a very untidy desk.

"So," Coach began, "what is the word?"

Oliver cleared his throat, which felt as if it had suddenly shrunk to the size of a pea.

"They, um, they say it will take longer to determine a possible return date," Oliver said.

His coach wasn't fooled one bit.

"Possible? Meaning that it may not happen?" his voice quiet for one of a handful of times that Oliver could remember.

Oliver nodded.

"I see," Coach said. He steepled his fingers and looked at Oliver. Opening his mouth to say something, he closed it again and furrowed his brows.

"Sir," Oliver began, "let me assure you that I will do anything and everything the medi-team tells me to, so that I can return." His voice held none of the desperation he was feeling inside. He was a captain, he needed to maintain control.

"Oliver," Coach began, sitting forward in his chair, "I am confident that any and all effort from you will be 100 percent. But, son, facts are facts. There is risking yourself in prime physical condition, and then there is this. You may want to consider-"

"But, I am not giving up, sir." Oliver's face gave away nothing. "I will return. That is also a fact."

"We will wait until the final determination; consider yourself still on medical leave, for the time being," Coach said, standing up to shake Oliver's hand.

Oliver shook the coach's hand and turned to walk away.

"Oh, and Wood?"

Oliver turned.

"There are more important things in the world than Quidditch, just remember that."

* * *

Oliver, thinking about what his coach had said, immediately apparated to Diagon Alley. He was considering canceling the appointment with Hermione that evening. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on who you asked, he ran into a very delighted and very pregnant, Ginny Potter. 

"It is so good to see you again," Ginny said, giving Oliver a hug.

Oliver smiled but it was obvious he had something on his mind.

"And how was Scotland?" Ginny asked.

Oliver blinked, confused as to how she would know, when Ginny spoke again.

"Hermione, she mentioned where she was going," Ginny said, a tired sigh escaping her. "Do you mind if we grab a cup of tea? My feet are killing me."

"No, that would be nice," Oliver replied, offering Ginny his arm.

Finding a nice table at the nearby coffeehouse, Ginny and Oliver both ordered.

"So, how are Harry and Chelsea?" Oliver asks, making conversation.

"Oh, well Miss Chelsea believes she is the next star Keeper of Gryffindor. She is very passionate about it. Reminds of someone else I know," Ginny said with a grin.

Oliver blushed.

"Harry, on the other hand, is working quite a bit lately. I know he is more than capable, but it seems to me that he comes home more and more discouraged every day. But," she said with another sigh, "at least he comes home."

Oliver nodded, concentrating on his cup in front of him.

"Oliver?"

Slightly confused brown eyes meet hazel ones brimming with concern.

"Are you okay?" Ginny asked.

Oliver took a deep breath. It would be in the Daily Prophet sooner or later.

"I'm still on medical leave from the team," he began, "and there is a possibility I may not be able to return at all. Possible nerve damage."

Ginny closed her eyes. She knew what Quidditch meant to Harry and he was not even on a professional team. For this to happen to one of the most talented players in the sport had to be devastating.

"Is this for certain?" she asked lightly.

Oliver shrugged, taking a sip of tea. "The final determination will be made in a month. They figure if my responses haven't improved by then, they never will."

"Oh," Ginny murmurs. Her thoughts turned to her best friend. "Does Hermione know?"

"No, I was supposed to see her tonight, but…" Oliver trailed off.

"But?"

"Well, I'm not sure I will be great company these days and I wouldn't want to burden her with my problems, given all she has been through," Oliver stated.

"She told you?" Ginny asked with wide eyes. This was a surprising development, considering she herself had only found out recently.

Oliver nodded.

"And?" Ginny asks.

"And? It matters not to me what happened in her past. Only that she doesn't shut me out because of it," Oliver stated with a firm tone.

"But, what are you doing to her by canceling the evening?" Ginny said with care.

Oliver looked darkly at Ginny, but only saw love and concern for her friend.

'What was he doing?' he thought to himself. He wanted her to trust him, but how could she when he wasn't willing to let her see him at his lowest.

The teacup twisted on the saucer as Oliver pushed his thoughts around and around.

"She can take a lot more than you think," Ginny reminded him. "She stood with Harry and Ron at the crucial moment and did not abandon them. Do you think you would rate any less if you needed her?" she asked incredulously. "If you do, then you are not the man for my best friend."

Oliver looked closely at the young woman sitting across from him. Her hands were on her belly, smoothing her blouse over the growing child inside, but her face was set in an expression of firm resolve. His dark thoughts changed instantly from his own life to that of Ginny. To watch the three most important people in your life go up against the ultimate evil had to almost tear her in half. Yet, here she was, married to one, sister to the other, and protecting the third. A smile worked its way on his face.

"What?" Ginny asked suspiciously.

"Nothing, just that Hermione is very lucky to have you for her best friend," Oliver said, finishing his tea.

"Yeah," Ginny said with sarcasm in her tone, "well, tell her that, will you? She never seems to listen to me."

"Caught on to that too, eh?" Oliver said with a smile as he paid the check.

They both looked at one another and chuckled. Pulling out her chair, Oliver held Ginny's hand as she struggled to her feet. He kissed the back of her hand and winked.

"Thank you, my dear. You are truly a good friend to all who are fortunate to know you," Oliver said with a gallant flair.

Ginny blushed and pulled her hand away. "Oh, stop. What would Harry say?"

"He would say that any man that kisses his wife's hand probably has a death wish, if said man isn't already related to her," came a deep male voice from behind them.

Ginny turned around and grinned as Harry stood there with his arms crossed. Oliver cleared his throat.

"Uh, hello Harry," Oliver began. He fidgeted under Harry's glare.

"Okay, that's enough, Harry," Ginny said, laughing. "He means nothing by it, Oliver. Just ignore him," she said, taking one of Harry's hands in hers. His green eyes bored into hers as he fought the grin on his face.

Oliver looked at the two of them and felt his stomach drop. 'I want that with Hermione' he thought to himself. The closeness between the two was obvious to anyone that seen them together.

"So, what did I miss?" Harry asked. "Planning illicit rendezvous with each other?"

"NO!" Oliver exclaimed. He was still wary of Harry's earlier statement.

Ginny giggled. "Harry, we were discussing rare books and the sky over Scotland this time of year," she said, raising her eyebrows to let him know she would tell him later. Oliver's heartbeat rose slightly as he thought of his home and what happened there.

"Ah, I see. Well, then, I guess I should tell you that I just seen a beautiful brunette leaving a certain bookstore," Harry said with a grin towards Oliver.

The smile was reciprocated as Oliver said his goodbyes and left the coffeehouse to return home.

"You can be insufferable sometimes, you know that don't you?" Ginny said, her voice stern.

"I know," Harry said with a chuckle, "but you love me anyway." He reached over to kiss his wife.

"Beautiful brunette, hmmm"

Harry grinned, his lips inches from hers. "No one is as beautiful as you," he said, as his lips met hers.


	27. AUTHOR NOTE

A/N:

Hello one and all.

Sorry for the delay in all this. Real life has an annoying habit of cropping up when I least want. I also have been suffering from a typical response to frenzied writing….the dreaded block. I have a couple later chapters set up to be gone over, but the links between the now and that are getting tough.

I appreciate everyone's comments and advice. Also your requests for me to get off my lazy arse and get writing are quite the nice motivation. LOL

I will be posting sometime soon, but have to get a few other wrinkles ironed out for the next two chapters.

Thanx again for your continued support.

M


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